The Trouble With Poets

The trouble with poets is they talk too much
They tell us how it hurts them
And it hurts them just a little more
We cannot tell
Maybe they make that part up
We've never stood in their shoes
In their skins
In their heads
On their shores

The trouble with you is you drive me nuts
I cannot tell what's that behind your smile
Poet, give us something just to lift us up
Just for tonight
For a time
For the sake of us all
For a while

I know it's only trouble
I know it makes us real
But I wish that peace of mind were
Something I could steal

The trouble with shoes is they come untied
You might take a fall down the stairs
And a poet might come along and he might say
"Well that's just like life"
I think the trouble with poets is
They'll see poetry everywhere

I know it's only trouble
Here I am at the bottom of the stairs
Begging you please Mr. Poet
For a few small repairs

Trouble with time is that time don't go back
Maybe that trouble's just with you and me
I am so scared of this long slow fade to black
That I push and I pull
And I'll do anything to be free

Oh Lord, I push and I struggle
I know, I know it's just the deal
And I know it's only trouble
And don't I know that trouble makes us real
And I know sometimes, sometimes
Nobody knows, nobody knows
Not even poets know
How we feel

The trouble with poets is they talk, they talk, they talk too much
Let us go then, you and I
As the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient, either eyes on a table
They talk too much
They talk too much