This is what happens when I listen to cheesy dance music all day at work:

It’s another attempt at a song! Woooooo.

 

Coming through the speakers

It floods my synapses,
a substitute for substances.
Busy traveling, traveling.
My blues unraveling, unraveling
A stimulant, the strings and beat.
And I can feel it.
I can feel it
Pumping those chemicals, chemicals
Pumping those chemicals through.

One by one you pluck those strings
It’s a salve for boredom, for pains.
Vibrations, my heart-beat fickle
Oh my legs, how they tremble, they tremble

And I can feel it
I can feel it
Pumping those chemicals, chemicals
Pumping those chemicals through.
Involuntarily tapping toes, shoulders sway,
leading hips to do what they may

Man-made, fully organic, fully orgasmic
Secreted into spaces
adding blushes to faces.
Bleeding into vessels, absorbing into cells.
It’s the feeling in your gut as the music swells.
It’s a drug, the strings and beat,
Complementary, adding to the heat.
And I feel it.
I can feel it
Pumping those chemicals, chemicals
Pumping those chemicals, chemicals
Pumping those chemicals, chemicals
Pumping those chemicals through.

 

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