Joy In Repetition

He like to frequent this club down up on 36th
Where pimps and thangs like to hang outside and cuss for kicks
Talking to no one in particular
They say the baddest I am tonight
Four letter words are seldom heard with such dignity and bite
All the poets and the part time singers always hang inside
Live music from a band plays a song called Soul Psychodelicide
The song's a year long and had been playing for months
When he walked into the place
No one seemed to care
That introverted this-is-it look on most of their faces
Up on the mic repeating two words, over and over again
Was this woman he had never noticed before he lost himself in the
Articulated manner in which she said them
These two words, a little bit behind the beat
I mean just enough to turn you on
For every time she said the words another one of his doubts were gone
Should he try to rap with her
Should he stand and stare
No one else was watching her
She didn't seem to care
So over and over, she said the words til he could take no more
He dragged her from the stage
And together they ran through the back door
In the alley over by the curb he said tell me what's your name
She only said the words again and it started to rain
Two words falling between the drops and the moans of his condition
Holding someone is truly believing there's joy in repetition
There's joy in repetition
There's joy in repetition
There's joy in repetition

Love me
Love me