The Tortured Poet Lyrics

The tortured poet stays up day and night

To forge or know it's not too easy to write

Living in a churchman's attic for free

Violin he strums to keep him at ease

Masterpieces live inside his head

Last or least they're thought by everyone else

Though he tries to make a name for himself

No, he lies, he keeps his songs on a shelf

The poet tortured by his inhuman mind

He knows he forged the greatest work of all time

And when his music finds a grandson's ear

Just then, he'll leap out of his grave and appear

The world of music treats us fickle he knows

A twirl of truth and then they'll ask you to go

So when you listen to a young man's song

Go and view the tune and sing along

I think I've got an idea!

Nevermind