The Trouble With Poets

The trouble with poets is they talk too much

They tell us it hurts them a little more

And we cannot tell if they make this up

We've never stood in their shoes, in skins, in their heads, on their shores

The trouble with you is you drive me nuts

I cannot tell what's behind your smile

What can we find just to lift us up

Just for tonight, for a time, for the sake us of all for awhile

I know it's only trouble

I know it makes us real

I wish that peace of mind was 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 say, "Ain't that just like life"

I think the trouble with poets is they see poetry everywhere

I know it's only trouble

I know it makes us real

But I could use just a month or two or ten to heal

The trouble with time is it don't go back

Or maybe that trouble is with you and me

We are so scared of that fade to black

That we'll push and we'll pull and we'll do anything to be free

I know, I push, I struggle

I know it's just the deal

I know it's only trouble

Oh, I know it's what makes us real

But I know sometimes, nobody knows

Nobody knows

Not even poets know

How I feel

The trouble with poets is they talk too much (x2)