Back to Top

The Poet (Can't Jam) Video (MV)






Born Ruffians - The Poet (Can't Jam) Lyrics




I like a warm embrace
I like a pretty face
The smell of lemon, thyme, ginger, rosemary
Ah, my favourite things
I line 'em up
I put 'em all down upon a shelf
I watch them all collect dust
I lose my touch again
Don't quote me, I'm just a bad poet

I can't fly
I can't walk
I can't swim
I can't talk
I can't sing
I can't dance
I can't rap
I can't jam

But ooh, look at my tasteful use of metaphor
I think up things you never ever heard before
I can see an idea that's been around a corner hiding
Useful to attentive listeners
Borderline exciting

The best day of your life
It has come and gone
The bags under your eyes, too big for carry-on
I'm a tired boy, an empty void
A favourite song to sing along
I get along with everyone
I have a good time whenever I go out
But don't quote me, I'm just a bad poet

I can't fight
I can't pray
I can't riot
I can't obey
I can't see
I can't preach
I can't wake up
I can't sleep

But ooh, look at my tasteful use of metaphor
I think up things you never ever heard before
I can see an idea that's been around a corner hiding
Useful to attentive listeners
Borderline exciting
Ooh, it wears off after a day or two
Or gets absorbed into collective conscience
Added to a big pile
Or more like a hole that's mined
From time to time to verify one has a soul
But uh

I can't act
I can't paint
I can't teach
I can't bank
I can't laugh
I can't dream
I can't find the god damn things
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




I like a warm embrace
I like a pretty face
The smell of lemon, thyme, ginger, rosemary
Ah, my favourite things
I line 'em up
I put 'em all down upon a shelf
I watch them all collect dust
I lose my touch again
Don't quote me, I'm just a bad poet

I can't fly
I can't walk
I can't swim
I can't talk
I can't sing
I can't dance
I can't rap
I can't jam

But ooh, look at my tasteful use of metaphor
I think up things you never ever heard before
I can see an idea that's been around a corner hiding
Useful to attentive listeners
Borderline exciting

The best day of your life
It has come and gone
The bags under your eyes, too big for carry-on
I'm a tired boy, an empty void
A favourite song to sing along
I get along with everyone
I have a good time whenever I go out
But don't quote me, I'm just a bad poet

I can't fight
I can't pray
I can't riot
I can't obey
I can't see
I can't preach
I can't wake up
I can't sleep

But ooh, look at my tasteful use of metaphor
I think up things you never ever heard before
I can see an idea that's been around a corner hiding
Useful to attentive listeners
Borderline exciting
Ooh, it wears off after a day or two
Or gets absorbed into collective conscience
Added to a big pile
Or more like a hole that's mined
From time to time to verify one has a soul
But uh

I can't act
I can't paint
I can't teach
I can't bank
I can't laugh
I can't dream
I can't find the god damn things
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Luke Lalonde, Mitch Desrosier, Steve Hamelin
Copyright: Lyrics © WARP MUSIC LIMITED


Tags:
No tags yet