Fit ain’t fashion It’s what hold when the blade slip All that extra shit look alive till the weight hit Took the slack out the stance Left the want in the drape with it First pass shaved the noise Second pass made it stay fitted Grain under the varnish I can tell what’ll cave quick Line after line Less guess in the frame with it They see the finish I remember what got thinned for it What stayed got chosen What stayed got chosen Rest went quiet What stayed got chosen That’s how a form turn violent Cut the drag from the walk Now the pause sit meaner Cut the give from the voice Now the air sound leaner Every little act of grace started reading like filler Every cleaner revision made the center run thinner Kept the edge Lost the ease Kept the fit Lost the shimmer Made the shell more useful Made the nerve less certain They call that discipline I hear what got injured in it What stayed got chosen What stayed got chosen Rest went quiet What stayed got chosen That’s how a form turn violent Third pass took the doubt Fourth one cut what flinched in it Fifth made a structure out the parts I couldn’t live with All that careful little editing got deep in the rib with it By the time it looked right I was less where the will sit I don’t call it damage yet Just a tax on precision Like the fit got sharper every time I lost a little If the outline hold under pressure All they see is the finish What stayed got chosen Less noise More edge Less mercy More thread Less drift More line Same hand Less mine What stayed got chosen Rest went quiet What stayed got chosen That’s how a form turn violent What stayed got chosen Rest went quiet What stayed got chosen That’s how a form turn violent What fit the frame Outlived the softness
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