Aisle 7 (You Move Like Chaos) - Funk Me Free” (Cover)

“She walked like a pattern I couldn’t solve… Between the cereal and the wine, something started humming.” Low bass pulses. Hi-hat ghost notes. Electric Rhodes sketching scattered chords like flickering lights on shiny floors. You glide past aisle five — like you’re chasing ghosts in discount lights. Your cart drifts sideways, a snake without a plan. I follow once, then twice, then lose the map again. You pause by the chocolates — I swear the air bends. Your hand hesitates, like you’re testing gravity. Chorus (slow, hypnotic) You move like chaos, no reason, no rhyme. I’m stuck between footsteps and the rhythm of time. You move like chaos, I forget what I came for. Maybe you’re the meaning aisle seven hides behind the door. I try to sync with your path — cart wheels squeal like broken jazz. You turn left, then stop — then smile at the shelves like they spoke back. I laugh, but only the freezer hums. Then — you crash into me. Your eyes: startled, electric. “Oh — hi,” you say, “I’m writing a song.” And I hear it — in the rhythm of your breath, the syncopation of your laugh. Your voice dissolves into fluorescent hum. Cart wheels slow, Rhodes echo faint. Two frequencies meeting, then sliding apart again. Just air conditioners and aftertaste of rhythm.