Verse
 C                                Am 
upon the autumn streets when the city is away 
C                           Am 
on some lonesome quest for winter 
C                           Am 
the man who sings his poems unravels his display 
C                             Am 
and the neon spectrums turn to splinters 
C                           Am 
and the nights are cold sometimes, but never for his pages 
             C                  Am 
they don't sway against this wilderof the stage 
C                           Am 
and the ageless battle cries I unearthed from my eyes 
             C                               Am 
no longer writhe because the singing poet is wise 
 
Chorus 
   F                                G 
they said that love of mine won't wither 
               Em                          G 
that time will bring a treasure trove of things 
 F                               G 
and the shadows now are just a sliver 
               Em 
but still it stings 
                F 
but it doesn't matter 
                C 
when the poet sings 
 
Verse
C                           Am 
under the smoky chimes of roll up cigarettes and rhymes 
C                           Am 
beneath the ponds of makeshift filters 
C                                  Am 
he told me that my sorries were really not worth their weight sometimes 
            C                Am 
and it was best to let them wither 
C                              Am 
and though I've sung and rung those bells of innocence undone 
          C          Am 
with the side of the sun 
C                           Am 
but within his song I sail amongst the sounds where sunlight fell 
C                  Am              
when my experience begun 
C                         Am                                C 
and when I'm weather-worn the virtues of my mind have torn away 
C                         Am 
and no such sounds won't stray 
 
Chorus
   F                                G 
and if I keep my sorries they'll not wither 
               Em                          G 
and time will bring a treasure trove of things 
 F                               G 
and the shadows now are just a sliver 
               Em 
but still it stings 
                 F 
but it doesn't matter 
               C 
when the poet sings 
 
Verse
C                                  Am 
and when this drifting debutante Madonna's come of age 
C                           Am 
and her days of youth are over 
C                                     Am                               C 
she and I will both surmise that the poet's song will brush aside this man 
                      Am 
just as the infant's sorrows hold her 
C                                           Am 
and on the day that I am slayed and by the colors of my mind betrayed 
C                     Am 
on the silence of the stage 
C                                  Am 
the poet's song will set apart and turn to flames my weary rungs 
C                        Am 
and set my phenomenons ablaze 
 
Chorus
   F                                G 
he said my charming death would wither 
                Em                          G 
and time would bring a treasure trove of things 
 F                               G 
and the shadows now are just a sliver 
               Em 
but still it stings 
                F 
but it doesn't matter 
               C 
when the poet sings