By Thomas Page

I like to play the same songs over and over while working

To hear the same lyric again while I try to find my own answers

To a soulless prompt before me

Requiring me to extract hope from despair

And graded on the power of ex nihilo of an e re world.

I don’t know what they’re saying right there

 

How I find songs is often more entertaining than the song itself.

I like to shuffle and skip songs of before

Because they tend to be less of a bore

Than the unabridged library on the current station

A creature of docent habit

I don’t know what they’re saying right there

 

I have spent years singing the wrong lyric

Or saying the wrong tune

To find out like a deathbed confession

That all that I had known was a lie

From a pop album with hair dye.

I don’t know what they’re saying right there

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