Letters from Rimbaud

In Greece, as I've said
Verse and lyre set the rhythms of action
And afterwards music and rhyme are games, pastime

Everything grows
Cause anything goes
We cannot know
Because we are inside it
Everything grows
Cause anything goes

I'm almost the island
I'm almost the island

In Greece as I've said
Verse and lyre set the rhythms of action
And afterwards music and rhyme are games, pastime
Keeping only quietness

We gather, we gather, we gather, we gather
We gather up the fruit of the mind
Pen pushers and authors always full of numbers that crumble
The poet is truly the fire stealer
The poet is truly the fire stealer
The stealers, the stealers, the stealers, the stealers, the stealers

Everything grows
Cause anything goes

What do we remind you of?
And when you come around the show
You'll never make it up that fast
When no one else considers more
And I can tell you one more thing
You'll never come back here for more
There's nothing but a broken stand
And lovers crouching on the floor

Everything grows
Cause anything goes
We cannot know because we are inside it

I'm almost an island
But not quite yet
I'm almost an island
But not quite yet