Song Lyrics

You got your paycheck
Blew it all that afternoon
On mall sunglasses, fees for classes
Back to school
Then we drove and you laughed
And pointed out the bars
Where you had sex in bathrooms
Wet with urban drips
And you admit
It was gross but you were having fun
And I feel gross
But not the way that you and I know

You play your heart out
Every Tuesday open mic
Now you got your own show
Name on posters, Friday night
I didn't realize how badly I've been itching
Just to hear your voice singing in a quiet room
With no one texting or yelling at the bar and being rude
And you are music but not the kind they listen to, no

You are music but not the kind they listen to, no
You are music but not the kind they listen to, no
You are music but not the kind they listen to, no
You are music but not the kind they listen to, no

Ellen Kempner