Petals traced upon their graves of the lives they once had scattered
We were lost and torn on broken glass from the reflection we had shattered
We sought out their places among their sacred spaces
We searched through footprints for any traces
We grabbed a hold of their truth as we owned it
Refusing to admit even amongst our own fame
That we had in found borrowed and stole it
Taken again from the sea of the damned
Stolen from the Greatest Poets
I had found out all their secrets and I had told all their lies
It was this sentiment given they wore as disguise
It is a fatal mistake that you think yourself wise
They still breath deeper than you even though they have died
You may have presumed when you found them they were waiting it out
You have presumed that you knew everything they were about
But you’re walking in a cemetery of hearts gone cold
You are walking along whispers of the tales of old
Yet to the highest bidder our souls were sold
Ours are but lies, their truths are still told
We claimed forgotten fame as though we thought we owned it
They were but ashes in our hand, left to us by them, the greatest Poets
A misunderstanding, a terrible waste when we assumed we had figured it out
Pretending to know what they were about, assuming again they were waiting it out
How many times have I written these words?
How many more have them read them too?
How many times over did you have to think twice because you assume I am talking to you?
There are truths we have sought and souls we have bought but within our own web we find ourselves caught
We sold ourselves out but they…they did not, because they couldn’t be so easily bought
Though journey’s center within us
We have found our paths have collided
Though we claim a union of one
We are still a house divided
Over a decision never decided
Did we really assume it was ours for the taking and they were only ingredients in the dreams that we’re making
We stand so tall while it is our ground that’s shaking, confused by the vision, that reflection is breaking
And it was strange, odd even, the way we just claimed it
Taking our places within those forgotten spaces
Taking our stand among the damned of forgotten faces
We proved our own souls by lighting a lantern and calling it a flame
Attempting even to be known by name
While the words we all speak are all sounding the same
We all it seems, keep talking about the rain
And do you still call yourself a Poet?
Claiming your title with these words you embrace, drinking them down so bitter is the taste
Because everything you are can still be erased, and your solitude seems to have been misplaced
Every minute you spend is someone’s time you will waste, they’ve forgotten your name, they’ve forgotten your face
But tell me again that you are a Poet
And I’ll tell you your title is stolen
A thief in the night, thinking your hidden from sight
You call me a fool and I think you are right
You claim you won’t sell but I think that you might
Because you’re still speaking of the rain
And my story has not changed
So this is truth that you so proudly claim
Have you broken your heart while you’re pointing out blame?
Even if though you call it by a different name…
Rain is still just rain
You tell me your sorrows and how your broken and bruised
As though you take no part its not something you choose
Everything that you are is everything you will loose
We have all already tired of how your heart went cold
That story now is so very old, and already a million time told
That journey you started took way too long
We all know by heart the words to that song
You may call me a fool but I think that you’re wrong
You allowed all us to follow through the broken glass of the truth that you borrow
We choked on the poison of your perpetual sorrow, and time ran out before we reached tomorrow
Yet you continued moving farther?
You continue moving under water
Drowning yourself to become a martyr
Have you really in fact been saved by Grace
It seems to be you have simply lost your place
Your soul and your legacy already erased
But stand and claim your stolen space
So we may choke on the poison we swallow
As you scream out from a place that is hollow
Don’t ask me for truth in which you can wallow
Ask me for lies and I’ll tell you tomorrow
Remember, I am the Poet.
It is my path that we now follow
Will it matter then at all who is to blame
That they no nothing of our story
They do not know our name
Or that every story we tell we still tell the same
Because we are all still speaking of rain
Our rain it seems has ranked as lowest
They are still the Greatest Poets