Lost Poet
Corné van Niekerk
Fair enough, the bar has been set
Feeling rough, reality checked
Keeping up appearances while I sleep on deathrow
No words, no letters from you
Sweet curse, a present from you
I'm not dead, but instead I go to bed with a gun to my head
I'm just a fool holding on to you
A poet lost in his dying youth
Maybe I'm dead when I see you again
Baby, I'm dead
Please forgive me for falling in love and showing my heart
I'll excuse you for being so young and folding your cards
If you never see another one of me then the gods must be wrong
Because I'll never feel anything else that feels like the shot of a gun
I'm just a fool holding on to you
A poet lost in his dying youth
In his dying youth