| <Frank Turner> page <Take To The Road: Live 2009> album page |
Poetry Of The DeedThey're coming out of the walls, they're coming up through the streetsThey're quicksilver wracked by some invisible beat And right outside of your door, the very stones come alive They are the spring in the step, the distant look in the eyes Put your Baudelaire away And come outside and play Me and all my friends are poets of the deed We're exactly what this country needs We scratch until we're drunk, we drink until we bleed We are what we believe Pentameter in attack, iambic pulse in the veins Free verse powered of the street light mains An Iliad played out without a shadow of doubt Between the end of the club, yeah, and the sun coming out Leave Kerouac at his desk We have romance in our risks Me and all my friends are poets of the deed We're exactly what… |