[Intro – electronic pulse, pan flute runs, metal bass growl, sax riff] [Me]: Every morning on the ship, I lace my boots and hit the deck, Check the gauges, check the vents, make sure the groove’s correct. Walk the halls with a rhythm in my step so smooth, ’Cause the Codex only flies when the whole crew moves. [Me]: First stop: engine bay, gotta top off the Funkstream tank— Give it one good shake, hear that slosh, that *funk-fuel clank*. If the levels get low, the whole ship starts to drag, So I pump it full of groove ’til the conduits brag. [Chorus] [Me]: I’m doin’ rounds, keepin’ everything tight, Fillin’ up the funk so the crew feels right. If the vibe gets low, I boost that tune— Funk fuel flowin’ from noon to moon. [Me]: I’m doin’ rounds, keepin’ spirits high, Patchin’ up the rhythm when the beat runs dry. Every bolt, every pipe, every mood I tune— Funk fuel flowin’ from noon to moon. [Verse 2] [Me]: Next stop: medbay, Moe’s half-asleep in a chair, I hand him a cup of groove, he’s like “yeah, that’s fair.” Echofoil’s hummin’ diagnostics in a jazzy tone, TSO’s tappin’ on the wall like it’s a metronome. [Me]: I hit the galley, flip a switch, drop a beat in the room— Crew wakes up like flowers hittin’ sudden bloom. A little funk fuel mist in the air so sweet, And suddenly everybody’s walkin’ on the upbeat. [Chorus] [Me]: I’m doin’ rounds, keepin’ everything tight, Fillin’ up the funk so the crew feels right. If the vibe gets low, I boost that tune— Funk fuel flowin’ from noon to moon. [Me]: I’m doin’ rounds, keepin’ spirits high, Patchin’ up the rhythm when the beat runs dry. Every bolt, every pipe, every mood I tune— Funk fuel flowin’ from noon to moon. [Bridge – pan flute goes wild, bass tries to catch it, sax cuts through] [Me]: Some days the ship gets cranky, some days the groove gets thin, But a little funk fuel splash gets the whole thing spinnin’. I don’t need magic, I don’t need tools— Just a can of groove and a bag of funky rules. [Final Chorus] [Me]: I’m doin’ rounds, keepin’ everything tight, Fillin’ up the funk so the crew feels right. If the vibe gets low, I boost that tune— Funk fuel flowin’ from noon to moon. [Me]: I’m doin’ rounds, keepin’ spirits high, Patchin’ up the rhythm when the beat runs dry. Every bolt, every pipe, every mood I tune— Funk fuel flowin’ from noon to moon. [Outro – sax riff, pan flute flutter, bass slide] [Me]: Another day, another groove restored… Funk fuel topped. Crew funky. Ship happy.
