Drew Shortell - 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