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Pieter Posted 22 years ago
Me, you, they
Me, you, they
Rhyme- piles tear me apart,
puddles of melody as I start,
if I perfectly calculate all, it
destroys the genius, I’m a dry poet.
Only what stutters is true, is creation,
all that tinkles- compromising confabulation.
I feel their perfection on my brain plaughing.
I’m sitting at the piano. Salieri’s laughing.
Rhyme- piles tear me apart,
puddles of melody as I start,
if I perfectly calculate all, it
destroys the genius, I’m a dry poet.
Only what stutters is true, is creation,
all that tinkles- compromising confabulation.
I feel their perfection on my brain plaughing.
I’m sitting at the piano. Salieri’s laughing.
Top answer
Mozart is mischivious in my ear his words are echoing: you can can can do do do much better, better, better. Water, water, water for my poet.
- Mozart is mischivious in my ear his words are echoing: you can can can do do do much better, better, better.
- Water, water, water for my poet.
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1 Answers
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Mozart is mischivious
in my ear his words
are echoing:
you can can can do do do
much
better, better, better.
Water, water, water for my poet.
in my ear his words
are echoing:
you can can can do do do
much
better, better, better.
Water, water, water for my poet.
0
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