The Lakes

Album: Folklore (2020)
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  • Is it romantic how all my elegies eulogize me?
    I'm not cut out for all these cynical clones
    These hunters with cellphones

    Take me to the Lakes where all the poets went to die
    I don't belong and, my beloved, neither do you
    Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry
    I'm setting off, but not without my muse

    What should be over burrowed under my skin
    In heart-stopping waves of hurt
    I've come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze
    Tell me what are my words worth

    Take me to the Lakes where all the poets went to die
    I don't belong and, my beloved, neither do you
    Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry
    I'm setting off, but not without my muse

    I want auroras and sad prose
    I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet
    'Cause I haven't moved in years
    And I want you right here
    A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground
    With no one around to tweet it
    While I bathe in cliffside pools
    With my calamitous love and insurmountable grief

    Take me to the Lakes where all the poets went to die
    I don't belong and, my beloved, neither do you
    Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry
    I'm setting off, but not without my muse
    Not without you
    Take me to the Lakes where all the poets went to die
    I don't belong and, my beloved, neither do you
    Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry
    I'm setting off, but not without my muse
    No, not without you Writer/s: Jack Michael Antonoff, Taylor A. Swift
    Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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