The Muse Lyrics
| Song | The Muse |
| Artist | Emilie Autumn |
| Album | Your Sugar Sits Untouched |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Your eyes are raised to heaven | |
| When I’m sitting on the floor | |
| At your feet | |
| What am I for? | |
| Do I create | |
| Or just translate | |
| Between you | |
| And your mind | |
| The art you’ll never find | |
| And when your pen runs out of ink | |
| You’ll close the book and with me | |
| Leave behind your memory | |
| Are you brilliant? | |
| Are you blind? | |
| Would you have nothing more to say | |
| If I ever flew away | |
| In the end is it you | |
| Is it me | |
| Do I have anything? | |
| What am I for? | |
| But when I walk out that door | |
| Your prayers are plenty when you have | |
| An empty page before you | |
| And still I may adore you | |
| For you take dictation better | |
| Than most poets true compose | |
| Your lines far surpass those | |
| You pray for what you know will come | |
| Your confidence is flattering | |
| But still it’s quite another thing | |
| Compelled to inspire | |
| When to dream | |
| Is all you really understand | |
| The letters from your hand | |
| Will never quite belong to you | |
| And even then I only pray | |
| That when I leave | |
| You’ll softly say | |
| Goodbye |
| Your eyes are raised to heaven | |
| When I' m sitting on the floor | |
| At your feet | |
| What am I for? | |
| Do I create | |
| Or just translate | |
| Between you | |
| And your mind | |
| The art you' ll never find | |
| And when your pen runs out of ink | |
| You' ll close the book and with me | |
| Leave behind your memory | |
| Are you brilliant? | |
| Are you blind? | |
| Would you have nothing more to say | |
| If I ever flew away | |
| In the end is it you | |
| Is it me | |
| Do I have anything? | |
| What am I for? | |
| But when I walk out that door | |
| Your prayers are plenty when you have | |
| An empty page before you | |
| And still I may adore you | |
| For you take dictation better | |
| Than most poets true compose | |
| Your lines far surpass those | |
| You pray for what you know will come | |
| Your confidence is flattering | |
| But still it' s quite another thing | |
| Compelled to inspire | |
| When to dream | |
| Is all you really understand | |
| The letters from your hand | |
| Will never quite belong to you | |
| And even then I only pray | |
| That when I leave | |
| You' ll softly say | |
| Goodbye |
| Your eyes are raised to heaven | |
| When I' m sitting on the floor | |
| At your feet | |
| What am I for? | |
| Do I create | |
| Or just translate | |
| Between you | |
| And your mind | |
| The art you' ll never find | |
| And when your pen runs out of ink | |
| You' ll close the book and with me | |
| Leave behind your memory | |
| Are you brilliant? | |
| Are you blind? | |
| Would you have nothing more to say | |
| If I ever flew away | |
| In the end is it you | |
| Is it me | |
| Do I have anything? | |
| What am I for? | |
| But when I walk out that door | |
| Your prayers are plenty when you have | |
| An empty page before you | |
| And still I may adore you | |
| For you take dictation better | |
| Than most poets true compose | |
| Your lines far surpass those | |
| You pray for what you know will come | |
| Your confidence is flattering | |
| But still it' s quite another thing | |
| Compelled to inspire | |
| When to dream | |
| Is all you really understand | |
| The letters from your hand | |
| Will never quite belong to you | |
| And even then I only pray | |
| That when I leave | |
| You' ll softly say | |
| Goodbye |
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