Poets be buried in tender marching feet
Buried as seeds and watered in the street
Chained to the fates of strangers facing all defeat
Poets be buried in tender marching feet
I had a daughter and I taught her all I knew
Fight in the gutter and love the work you do
How for to warn her of hatred hiding in the blue
I had a daughter and I taught her all I knew
I asked my father if this is all there is
A home that won't claim you, a country that rescinds
You are your own saint, a center to hold, a life to live
I asked my father if this is all there is
They built my city on funerary ground
Raised a parade and marched it through the town
What is the mind but the sickness of time, it goes 'round and 'round
They built my city on funerary ground
These nights alone can grate on a wintry soul
Sunless migrations that settle every wall
But I am my own saint, a center to hold, a cannonball
These nights alone can grate on a wintry soul
Poets be buried in tender marching feet
Buried as seeds and watered in the street
Chained to the fates of strangers facing all defeat
Poets be buried in tender marching feet
Kaia Kater - Poets Be Buried Lyrics
Kaia Kater - Poets Be Buried Lyrics
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Poets be buried in tender marching feet
Buried as seeds and watered in the street
Chained to the fates of strangers facing all defeat
Poets be buried in tender marching feet
I had a daughter and I taught her all I knew
Fight in the gutter and love the work you do
How for to warn her of hatred hiding in the blue
I had a daughter and I taught her all I knew
I asked my father if this is all there is
A home that won't claim you, a country that rescinds
You are your own saint, a center to hold, a life to live
I asked my father if this is all there is
They built my city on funerary ground
Raised a parade and marched it through the town
What is the mind but the sickness of time, it goes 'round and 'round
They built my city on funerary ground
These nights alone can grate on a wintry soul
Sunless migrations that settle every wall
But I am my own saint, a center to hold, a cannonball
These nights alone can grate on a wintry soul
Poets be buried in tender marching feet
Buried as seeds and watered in the street
Chained to the fates of strangers facing all defeat
Poets be buried in tender marching feet
Buried as seeds and watered in the street
Chained to the fates of strangers facing all defeat
Poets be buried in tender marching feet
I had a daughter and I taught her all I knew
Fight in the gutter and love the work you do
How for to warn her of hatred hiding in the blue
I had a daughter and I taught her all I knew
I asked my father if this is all there is
A home that won't claim you, a country that rescinds
You are your own saint, a center to hold, a life to live
I asked my father if this is all there is
They built my city on funerary ground
Raised a parade and marched it through the town
What is the mind but the sickness of time, it goes 'round and 'round
They built my city on funerary ground
These nights alone can grate on a wintry soul
Sunless migrations that settle every wall
But I am my own saint, a center to hold, a cannonball
These nights alone can grate on a wintry soul
Poets be buried in tender marching feet
Buried as seeds and watered in the street
Chained to the fates of strangers facing all defeat
Poets be buried in tender marching feet
Writer: Kaia Kater Hurst
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group