Karaoké Repeat Stuff Bo Burnham

Love songs used to be so beautiful

Let us go then, you and I when the evening is spread out

Against the sky

Like a patient etherized upon a table

T.S. Eliot

Nowadays, thanks to corporately-owned pop stars

Love songs are even more beautiful

How beautiful are today's love songs?

I'll show you

I love your hair

I love your name

I love the way you say it

I love your heart

And you're so smart 'cos you gave away it

I love your sis

I love your dad

I love your mum but more than all of that

I love the fact that you are dumb enough

To not realize everything

I've said has been said before in a thousand ways in a thousand songs

Sung with the same four chords but you'll still love it and let me finger you

Yeah, finger you

Oh girl

I hope you don't think that

I'm rude

When I tell you that

I love you, boo

I also hope that you don't see through

This cleverly constructed ruse

Designed by a marketing team

Cashing in on puberty and low self esteem

And girls' desperate need to feel loved

America says we love a chorus but don't get complicated and bore us

Though meaning might be missin'

We need to know the words after just one listen, so

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff

Repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff

Repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, yeah

Repeat stuff

Yeah, repeat stuff

I love my baby and you know

I couldn't live without her

But now I need to make every girl

Think this song's about her

Just to make sure that they spread it like the plague

So I describe my dream girl

As really, really vague like

I love your hands 'cos your fingerprints are like no other

I love your eyes and their blueish brownish, greenish color

I love it when you smile

That you smile wide

And I love how your torso has an arm on either side, now

If you're my agent you might be thinking

Oh no, sound the alarms

You're not appealing

To little girls who don't have arms

But they can't use iTunes, so fuck 'em, who needs 'em

Oh girl

I hope you don't think that

I'm rude

When I tell you that

I love you, boo

I also hope that you don't see through

This cleverly constructed ruse

Designed by a marketing team

Cashing in on puberty and low self esteem

And girls' desperate need to feel loved

America says we love a chorus but don't get complicated and bore us

Though meaning might be missin'

We need to know the words after just one listen, so

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff,

Repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff

Repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff

Repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff

Repeat stuff repeat stuff

Yes, repeat it

Repeat it 'till the day you die

I'm in magazines full of model teens so far above you

So read them and hate yourself then pay me to tell you

I love you

I love you

And your parents will always come along

Because their little girl is in love

And how could love be wrong

How could love be wrong

When you repeat stuff repeat stuff, repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, repeat stuff repeat stuff

Repeat stuff, yeah

We know it's not right

We know it's not funny but we'll stop beating dead horse

When it stops spittin' out money but until then we will repeat stuff