| You’re nothing more than shallow |
| with a tongue lodged in your cheek |
| what is it that you’re saying |
| shrouded in a cloud of smoke |
| you’re not coming through |
| the lines are crossed and the static numbs my ears |
| your turn of phrase rings hollow |
| i cant trust a word you say |
| what are we to do when the last great poet |
| has thrown down his pen? |
| if you cant move me now then i swear you never will |
| just going through the motions while the audience is still |
| i can hardly feel the passion that you’ve stolen from this room |
| you’re nothing but a mockery of all i hold so true |
| you’ve nothing invested, you’ve got no soul at all |
| i see you for what you really are, you’re not fooling anyone |
| a coward in a flashy disguise |
| what are we to do when the last great poet throws down his pen? |
| who can we turn to for the words we scream right back? |
| where do we find solace if were never shown the way? |
| what happened to the authors who have something left to say? |
| look inside yourself, and if you find theres nothing there |
| be cast into eternal exile miles from here |
| never to be seen again |
| and don’t find your way back |
| proclaim your pain |
| bring them to their knees |
| were making room for those with a clearer vision |
| let the inspired voice be heard |
| give us your life |
| show us something more |