when the poets come marching
Posted: May 3rd, 2015, 5:06 pm
when the poets come marching home, Ra Ra
Ra Ra, they will say what they want, again, Ra Ra
they will write the words that poets write, Ra Ra
they will speak their minds, and tell it like it is
Ra Ra, they will pick up their pens, Ra Ra
and man their typewriters , Ra Ra
When they come walking down the shabby streets
again, they will be the true legislators of the heart
Ra Ra, we the poets of the people, we the people
of the poets, we will march poem, again Ra Ra
when we spill the wine of our words like our blood
Ra Ra, we will march the words across the page, Ra Ra
words that have been through hell and back, again
we put down our guns and picked up our pens,
Ra Ra, we honed our words to say what needed to be said
our words are not made of lead, they are like bread
made of letters, they are like mirrors to the soul, Ra Ra
we have written the true meaning of freedom, even so
you can't keep a poet down for long, they have to sing
their song, belt out them lines, recite them groans
and moans, and hollers at the TV dinner of lies, Ra Ra
the poets have always been walking home, with a poem
full of words to feed the sun, a poet's words are never done, Ra Ra
Ra Ra, they will say what they want, again, Ra Ra
they will write the words that poets write, Ra Ra
they will speak their minds, and tell it like it is
Ra Ra, they will pick up their pens, Ra Ra
and man their typewriters , Ra Ra
When they come walking down the shabby streets
again, they will be the true legislators of the heart
Ra Ra, we the poets of the people, we the people
of the poets, we will march poem, again Ra Ra
when we spill the wine of our words like our blood
Ra Ra, we will march the words across the page, Ra Ra
words that have been through hell and back, again
we put down our guns and picked up our pens,
Ra Ra, we honed our words to say what needed to be said
our words are not made of lead, they are like bread
made of letters, they are like mirrors to the soul, Ra Ra
we have written the true meaning of freedom, even so
you can't keep a poet down for long, they have to sing
their song, belt out them lines, recite them groans
and moans, and hollers at the TV dinner of lies, Ra Ra
the poets have always been walking home, with a poem
full of words to feed the sun, a poet's words are never done, Ra Ra