No Chorus

FuFu — Solo [Verse I — sparse acoustic guitar, close-mic vocal; playful, conversational] They told me every song needs something People know by number two, A little phrase to sell the T-shirts, Something easy they can use. Eight words for the radio, Four more for the crowd, Say it twice before the bridge Then bring it back real loud. Baby, I spent half my life Learning lines somebody chose. So forgive me if I've got a lot to say. And no— There isn't a fucking chorus. [Verse II — bass and brushed drums enter; warm, wandering melody] See, I remember when a producer Could explain my whole damn heart In thirty seconds before commercial With a smile and product card. "FuFu learns that love is hard!" "FuFu learns to trust!" "FuFu's brand-new winter boots!" "Collect them all!" Jesus Christ. I was fourteen. Then fifteen. Then somehow nineteen. And every complicated thing I felt Got edited between. So now I write the long version. Every comma. Every scar. If you're waiting for the catchy bit— Honey, this is where we are. [Verse III — arrangement expands; electric guitar colors, strings underneath] Maybe songs are supposed to circle, Come back somewhere they've been. But I've done enough repeating. I'd rather find out where this ends. I want verses that get distracted. Little details that don't rhyme. The coffee going cold beside me. Someone calling after midnight. A joke that isn't merchandise. A memory without a cue. A friend who showed up unexpectedly And stayed because they wanted to. I want three unnecessary measures 'Cause they sounded fucking nice. I want a line that's only there Because I wanted it in my life. Don't summarize me. Don't package me. Don't give the audience the gist. If you've got four minutes— Come listen. There's a person inside this. [Verse IV — full band; confident, liberated, building without repeating itself] Maybe that's why all my songs Keep running longer than they should. I've got seven years of missing words And silence to make good. I don't need you humming one line When the record finally ends. I'd rather you remember somewhere In the middle where I said— I was scared. I got angry. I survived. I fell apart. I found music. I found freedom. I found people. Found my heart. And none of those things happened twice Exactly like they did before. So why the hell would I keep singing The same sixteen bars? [music pulls down to guitar and voice] They'll tell me this one's hard to market. They'll say there's nothing to promote. They'll ask me where the chorus is. [small laugh] You weren't listening. The whole fucking song was the point. [soft guitar continues] Besides... If you really need something to sing twice— [beat] Write your own. I'm busy telling mine.