Rustweiler - Dead Poets Society | Текст песни

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• Rustweiler
• Dead Poets Society

Sitting in a room writing filler for a zine;
Never stopping for a minute to think of how silly you seem.
Planning your life around poetry reading. Finding clarity in a moment,
but finding no meaning. There will come a day when there's no land left to roam.
And there will come a day when there's no words left to write a poem.
You've forsaken substance, you've forsaken rhyme;
Ruining forms of expression stay the hell away from mine!
The medium is the message and you're lower than you think.
Mediocrity is your standard, you're an artist without the means.
You're verbiage is faded, Your expertise is minimal.
Devoid of talent, lacking soul, you illuminate the trivial.
Dead poets society (x4) Dead poets society (time four)

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