Descubra os temas, a história e o sentimento por detrás desta canção.
Is it romantic how all my elegies eulogize me? | I'm not cut out for all these cynical clones | These hunters with cell phones
Is it romantic how all my elegies eulogize me? I'm not cut out for all these cynical clones These hunters with cell phones Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm setting off, but not without my muse What should be over burrowed under my skin In heart-stopping waves of hurt I've come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze Tell me what are my words worth Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm setting off, but not without my muse I want auroras and sad prose I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet 'Cause I haven't moved in years And I want you right here A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground With no one around to tweet it While I bathe in cliffside pools With my calamitous love and insurmountable grief Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm setting off, but not without my muse No, not without you
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