Scuffed Loafers & Turpentine by G O T A N

[Verse 1]
Wringing out the collar of a Sunday coat
Got a mouthful of gravel and a brass-tack throat
Leave the velvet at the door, this is plywood flooring
If your knees ain't scuffed, then the sermon is boring!
(Pick it up!)
I see you clutching on the rail like it owes you a dime
We operating on a frantic, irregular time
Got the kick-drum fracturing the plaster and chalk
I don’t want to hear you whisper, I don't want you to talk!

[Pre-Chorus]
[Music stops entirely. Dead silence for 1.5 seconds.]
(Hold your breath...)
[Machine-gun rimshots stutter rapidly]
(Now choke on the brass!)

[Chorus]
[Violent mainstage drop: Distorted 808s and frenetic Swing-Jazz horns]
Shake the marrow from the bone!
Turn this basement to a throne!
(Holler!)
Ain't no choir going to save you from the heavy bassline
We just scrubbing out the stains with the turpentine!
Yeah, rattle the cage, let the padlock break
We serving a fever you can't fake!
(Move, move, get out the way!)

[Verse 2]
[Beat switches to an aggressive, sliding 808 groove with isolated rimshots]
(Listen to me...)
Preacher on the corner selling snake-oil cures
I'm selling friction on a floor that is yours
Got a blister on the heel, but the rhythm is thick
Every time the hi-hat stutters, it’s a nervous tic
(Yeah, twitch for me.)
Swallow the tempo, let it rot in your gut
We keeping the cathedral permanently shut
Just a congregation built on a fractured spine
If you stepping on my loafers, you are crossing the line!

[Bridge]
[Sudden shift. A single, dry, upright bass plucks a slow walking line]
[Vocals turn into a sarcastic, smooth whisper]
(Pardon the interruption...)
(I think I lost my cufflinks in the moshpit.)
[A massive, dissonant synth-brass chord screams out]
(Keep the change!)
[Drop kicks back in with chaotic Dembow percussion]
Spit the venom, chew the brass!
Shatter the stained-glass!

[Chorus]
[Violent mainstage drop: Maximum compression, wall of sound]
Shake the marrow from the bone!
Turn this basement to a throne!
(Holler!)
Ain't no choir going to save you from the heavy bassline
We just scrubbing out the stains with the turpentine!
Yeah, rattle the cage, let the padlock break
We serving a fever you can't fake!

[Outro]
[Beat strips down to a bone-dry kick and pitch-bent vocal chops]
(Wipe the sweat.)
(Pay the toll at the door.)
(My suit is completely ruined.)
[A chaotic flurry of jazz sax, abruptly cut off by a heavy rimshot]
(Done.)

2675/7500

[Intro] [Frenetic Swing-Jazz brass starts immediately, high-pitched and dissonant] [Sudden heavy industrial stab] (Man, wipe the grease off that trumpet.) (We ain't in church no more.) [Beat kicks in: Chaotic Dembow percussion with sliding 808s] [Verse 1] Wringing out the collar of a Sunday coat Got a mouthful of gravel and a brass-tack throat Leave the velvet at the door, this is plywood flooring If your knees ain't scuffed, then the sermon is boring! (Pick it up!) I see you clutching on the rail like it owes you a dime We operating on a frantic, irregular time Got the kick-drum fracturing the plaster and chalk I don’t want to hear you whisper, I don't want you to talk! [Pre-Chorus] [Music stops entirely. Dead silence for 1.5 seconds.] (Hold your breath...) [Machine-gun rimshots stutter rapidly] (Now choke on the brass!) [Chorus] [Violent mainstage drop: Distorted 808s and frenetic Swing-Jazz horns] Shake the marrow from the bone! Turn this basement to a throne! (Holler!) Ain't no choir going to save you from the heavy bassline We just scrubbing out the stains with the turpentine! Yeah, rattle the cage, let the padlock break We serving a fever you can't fake! (Move, move, get out the way!) [Verse 2] [Beat switches to an aggressive, sliding 808 groove with isolated rimshots] (Listen to me...) Preacher on the corner selling snake-oil cures I'm selling friction on a floor that is yours Got a blister on the heel, but the rhythm is thick Every time the hi-hat stutters, it’s a nervous tic (Yeah, twitch for me.) Swallow the tempo, let it rot in your gut We keeping the cathedral permanently shut Just a congregation built on a fractured spine If you stepping on my loafers, you are crossing the line! [Bridge] [Sudden shift. A single, dry, upright bass plucks a slow walking line] [Vocals turn into a sarcastic, smooth whisper] (Pardon the interruption...) (I think I lost my cufflinks in the moshpit.) [A massive, dissonant synth-brass chord screams out] (Keep the change!) [Drop kicks back in with chaotic Dembow percussion] Spit the venom, chew the brass! Shatter the stained-glass! [Chorus] [Violent mainstage drop: Maximum compression, wall of sound] Shake the marrow from the bone! Turn this basement to a throne! (Holler!) Ain't no choir going to save you from the heavy bassline We just scrubbing out the stains with the turpentine! Yeah, rattle the cage, let the padlock break We serving a fever you can't fake! [Outro] [Beat strips down to a bone-dry kick and pitch-bent vocal chops] (Wipe the sweat.) (Pay the toll at the door.) (My suit is completely ruined.) [A chaotic flurry of jazz sax, abruptly cut off by a heavy rimshot] (Done.)

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