Glass Harmonica Groove

(ahhhh) Glass in the ceiling bends the dawn I move slow but the

weight is on

Dust on the needle,

hand on the rail

Cold little sparks in a paper trail I do not rush,

I make it land

Truth sits heavy in an open

hand (low, low)

Hold the breath,

cut the room

One bar gone, then thunder blooms Hands stay still when the wire

bends I count the drop and begin again

Slam back on the one Let the glass cut through Heavy in

the drum Clear in what I do No crown,

no chain Just the sound I choose Slam back on the one

I come clean, I come true (yeah) (yeah) (hummmm)

Second half opens like a locked door Bassline crawls from the concrete

floor Brass hits flare,

then fold away

Bent little tones make the edges sway

I keep my voice in the center lane Calm in the static,

sharp in the grain No false gold,

no borrowed throne I build the heat

from bone to bone

Lift the filter, widen the frame

All that pressure learns my name

Drums fall out, the silence bites Then the floor comes back alive

(come on)

Slam back on the one Let the glass cut through

Heavy in the drum Clear in what I do

No crown, no chain Just the sound I choose Slam back on

the one I come clean,

I come true (yeah)

I leave the needle where it rests Glass still turning

in my chest Low end fades,

but the mark stays new (ahhhh)