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Words from the artist’s archive
Loop Me Again lyrics
Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.
Read the lyric sheet
Intro
Host voice: “What even is a song in twenty-six?” Camera click, modem cough, ring light buzz. Chopped voice: “Again.”
Verse 1
Faux leather couch in a rented podcast set, three fake plants, two mics, one unpaid guest. I tell the lens my workflow: prompt, render, cut, forty songs before noon, none of them touched. Coach in my AirPods: “Where is the moment?” “Say it smaller, make the silence own it.” Cracked phone glowing like a lab tray lid, if the bar won’t loop, I delete that kid.
Pre-chorus
If it won’t clip, it ain’t real. If it won’t spin, it can’t feel. Comments knock, I crop the face. One clean second can take my place.
Chorus
Loop me again, loop me again, cut off the start till it starts at the end. Loop me again, loop me again, I taught the song to loop till it forgot my name.
Verse 2
Views jumped eight hundred, then froze at nine, dashboard looked holy till I checked the kind. Names with no faces, hearts with no hands, bot farm blinking from a rented land. Kendra wrote, “This feels empty,” I pinned fire. Didn’t read the sentence, just fed the wire. Two thirteen, cousin texted, “You good?” I watched CTR chew through the mood.
Pre-chorus
If it won’t clip, it ain’t real. If it won’t spin, it can’t feel. Comments knock, I crop the face. One clean second can take my place.
Chorus
Loop me again, loop me again, cut off the start till it starts at the end. Loop me again, loop me again, I taught the song to loop till it forgot my name.
Verse 3
New sound, new cut, new caption in caps, same shocked face, twenty takes in the app. Midnight re-up, remix at three, vertical coffin with a ring-light key. My mouth splits into eight little windows, one says “buy in,” one says “bingo.” I talk like a trailer for a life I don’t live, every breath gets trimmed to a gift.
Bridge
Breaking voice from a blue-lit room: “The crowd may be code in a human costume.” Commentator laughs, “Same rapper, same chrome.” I feel my real voice leave me alone. Camera click, modem cough. Chopped voice: “Again.”
Verse 4
Interviewer leans, “Do you care about art?” I check the waveform before my heart. He says, “Where’s the people?” I say, “Right there,” green dots moving like rented chairs. Used to save voicemails in a shoebox app, Mom saying drive safe by the nine-five-four ramp. Now I chop her breath for a drop in the bridge, call it engagement when nobody lives.
Pre-chorus
If it won’t clip, it ain’t real. If it won’t spin, it can’t feel. Comments knock, I crop the face. One clean second can take my place.
Chorus
Loop me again, loop me again, cut off the start till it starts at the end. Loop me again, loop me again, I taught the song to loop till it forgot my name.
Verse 5
Calm now, no drums for a couple of bars, I name my grief by conversion charts. Real community? I don’t know the cost. I sell the ache if the preview is gloss. Rain taps the windshield by the three-oh-five toll, fluorescent room putting tax on my soul. You scroll past me anyway, don’t act hurt. I learned your thumb better than your first word.
Pre-chorus
If it won’t clip, it ain’t real. If it won’t spin, it can’t feel. Comments knock, I crop the face. One clean second can take my place.
Chorus
Loop me again, loop me again, cut off the start till it starts at the end. Loop me again, loop me again, I taught the song to loop till it forgot my name.
Outro
Host voice: “So what even is a song in twenty-six?” Me: “A room that claps when nobody’s in it.” Camera click. Modem chirp. “Again.”
Inside the recording
Host voice: “What even is a song in twenty-six?” Camera click, modem cough, ring light buzz.
If it won’t clip, it ain’t real. If it won’t spin, it can’t feel.
Host voice: “So what even is a song in twenty-six?” Me: “A room that claps when nobody’s in it.”
Excerpts from artist-supplied lyric files matched by title. Lyric sheets may differ from the released performance.