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.