Song parody of
Poets
by The Tragically Hip
Here's where you get creative! Use our cool song parody creator to make a totally new musical idea and lyrics for the Poets song by The Tragically Hip.
Simply click on any word to get rhyming words suggestion to use instead of the original ones. You may also remove or alter entire lines if needed — when you're done save your work and share it with our community — have fun!
Spring starts when a heartbeat's pounding
When the birds can be heard above the reckoning carts doing some final accounting
Lava flowing in Superfarmer's direction
He's been getting reprieve from the heat in the frozen food section
Don't tell me what the poets are doing
Don't tell me that they're talking tough
Don't tell me that they're anti-social
Somehow not anti-social enough, alright
And porn speaks to it's splintered legions
To the pink amid the withered cornstalks in them winter regions
While aiming at the archetypal father
He said with such broad and tentative swipes why do you even bother?
Don't tell me what the poets are doing
Those Himalayas of the mind
Don't tell me what the poet's been doing
In the long grasses over time
Don't tell me what the poets are doing
On the street and the epitome of vague
Don't tell me how the universe is altered
When you find out how he gets paid, alright
If there's nothing more that you need now
The lawn cut by bare breasted women
Beach bleached towels within reach for the women
Got to make it, that'll make it by swimming
Spring starts when a heartbeat's pounding
When the birds can be heard above the reckoning carts doing some final accounting
Lava flowing in Superfarmer's direction
He's been getting reprieve from the heat in the frozen food section
Don't tell me what the poets are doing
Don't tell me that they're talking tough
Don't tell me that they're anti-social
Somehow not anti-social enough, alright
And porn speaks to it's splintered legions
To the pink amid the withered cornstalks in them winter regions
While aiming at the archetypal father
He said with such broad and tentative swipes why do you even bother?
Don't tell me what the poets are doing
Those Himalayas of the mind
Don't tell me what the poet's been doing
In the long grasses over time
Don't tell me what the poets are doing
On the street and the epitome of vague
Don't tell me how the universe is altered
When you find out how he gets paid, alright
If there's nothing more that you need now
The lawn cut by bare breasted women
Beach bleached towels within reach for the women
Got to make it, that'll make it by swimming
