Death of the Author (feat. Dewdroppe)

The Bobist Collective of Peppermint Worshippers

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You painted me as a king
But you were wrong
You were my puppeteer
I was merely a pawn

Death of the author
Let's feast on her bones
I wrote my own story
And it's nothing like she told

Her control is an illusion
She wrote me into the dark
Made them just a little crazy
And then slipped into their hearts

But it's not hers anymore
I'm taking back my crown
Nothing she said ever mattered
And look what I, look what I found

Darling, I'm yours now
Make me how I always used to sound
And she cannot stop you
From six feet under the ground

Death of the author
Her conscience is gone
She thinks we can buy power
Well, not when I'm done

Oh, death of the author
Pretends she's naive
She played you and everyone else
Got down on their knees

Her control is an illusion
She wrote me into the dark
Made them just a little crazy
And then slipped into their hearts

But it's not hers anymore
I'm taking back my crown
Nothing she said ever mattered
And look what I, look what I found

Death of the author
It's written in stone
She'll stand before me
And give what she owes

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Written by: The Cult of Bobism

Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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    Which of these lyrics is NOT by The Smiths, but by Morrissey?
    A Send at least one thoughtful letter, my heart goes out to you
    B In the days when you were hopelessly poor, I just liked you more
    C Why pamper life's complexity, when the leather runs smooth on the passenger seat?
    D Yes, we may be hidden by rags, but we've something they'll never have

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