Kneel down here, smell this courage on my breath while I lazy out on your rug see?
I'm in denial and I've got Gillespie on my brain
Let this rip in leather be your starting point
Let this knotted body hang chanting out a juke box song
As if these luke-warm ears could nurse sound
As if these frost-bitten lips could sing now
I'm hoping for dawn to simmer down because
Music only happens in the dark
It shatters in a bitter segment reaching over building and going through your legs, see
We still got it
This ache called faith
So I lay here, drenched in acid jazz
Maybe I'll die here
It wouldn't be there first time

Can't corrupt my style
Sitting on the stoop listenin' to the new groove,
I've got my Sunday afternoons
I ain't fashionable, I'm just a go-flo-casual,
Hitting low blow til them lights come on,
so come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, I said no

Bess and Tess: Media rancid, media wild, media can't can't corrupt my style
Deja: Oh now now, you're bringing me down
Who's that boy that comes around
Everybody knows what to do
Feel the way 'til the rhythm comes to you
Me and my friends, we got nowhere to go
So why don't we go to the Who'da Funk It? show
And I sold my soul to a college application
Said, what do you know about a higher education?
Oh, no


from We Take It, We Leave It, We Love It, released December 21, 2012



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Who'da Funk It? Amherst, Massachusetts

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