Urban Drip

You got your paycheck Blew it all that afternoon On mall sunglasses Fees for classes Back to school And then we drove 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 I feel gross But not the way that you had meant, no You play your heart out Every Tuesday open mic Now you've got your own show Name on posters Friday night I didn't realize How badly I'd been itching just to Hear your voice Singing in a quiet room With no one texting Or yelling at the bar and being rude You are music But not the kind they listen to You are music But not the kind they listen to. You are music But not the kind they listen to. You are music But not the kind they listen to. You are music But not the kind they listen to.