Lie of a Poet

© Andrew Calhoun, unrecorded

Written at age 15, a snappy little song

Just because you can stand in the middle
Doesn't mean I could
Your mind is made of castles
My mind is made of wood
And you can't cover up my eyes
No matter how you use your brush and paint
Two things come as a great surprise
The lie of a poet, and the sin of a saint

There's a difference between what I need
And what I can afford
Yes, I could run through the streets with you
But I'm in prison of my own accord
And you can't cover up my eyes
No matter how you use your brush and paint
Two things come as a great surprise
The lie of a poet, and the sin of a saint