Disciples of Spess - Young poet loses his fringe | Текст песни

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• Disciples of Spess
• Young poet loses his fringe

Our poet, loses his fringe,
The young poet loses everything.
You can lose it all but,
Some things never change at all,
They never change at all.

Our poet is twenty three,
The visionary works in a library.
His visions slip through his hands,
His follicles ruin his plans,
Ruin his plans.

You are not a singer 'til you carry the tune.
You are not a cow until you've jumped the moon.

These visions slip through his hands,
These follicles ruin his plans.

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