• The day came,
    where words made way for art,
    and art had killed words,
    it saddens my heart,
    when I think of the day,
    the day words fell apart.

    The public all cheered,
    to see the artist's piece,
    no came to visit,
    the poet who lays deceased,
    for the artist took his money,
    and had himself a feast.

    Woe is me to think,
    that Shakespear died in vain,
    as the words of an author,
    waste away in the rain,
    I can not stand this,
    I can't take the pain.

    Now I come with pleading hands,
    I am on my very knees,
    I ask of you,
    bring back words please,
    so that poets may be avenged,
    and the day can be siezed.