[Intro – bagpipes hook, deep laid-back G-funk bass, slow groove, dusty market air] Sun on the stalls, dust in the lane Banner cloth snapping in a warm slow sway One long reed cry over bass down low And the whole town turned when I took that road [Verse 1 – deep male talk-rap, bagpipes and shawm answers, slow West Coast groove] Bootheels easy on the cobbled bend Smoke from the spits in the waking wind Dice on a barrel, knives on a cloth Apples and gossip and the price gone soft Old watchman squint from the chapel shade Girl at the ribbon stand half afraid Not of my hands, not steel, not sin Just the way I smiled like I’d already been Through every lane where the traders shout I let the low-end roll and the dust kick out Bagpipes high like a crown gone bent And the whole square moved when my shadow went [Chorus – full bagpipes hook, whistle synth, heavier G-funk bass, broad swagger] West Coast minstrel, slow through the square Bass in the timber, sun in the air Bagpipes singing while the lane leans wide Whole damn market on a lowrider glide West Coast minstrel, easy and mean Gold on the cloth and mud on the green Talk like a prayer, grin like a theft Leave with the crowd still stepping left [Verse 2 – smoother swagger, fuller market detail, deeper groove] Butcher with blood at the cuff looked twice Monk by the fountain smelled vice and spice Two young lords in a velvet bluff Learned real quick that their laugh weren’t enough I read that street like a psalm half wrong Some men got coin, some men got song Some got wagons, wheat, and wives Some got a mouth that can redraw lives Shawm cut through like a tilted blade Hurdy-gurdy held what the bassline made And every loose plank under cartwheel weight Kept time with the roll like a palace gate [Chorus – bigger medieval hook, fuller G-funk pressure, strongest swagger] West Coast minstrel, slow through the square Bass in the timber, sun in the air Bagpipes singing while the lane leans wide Whole damn market on a lowrider glide West Coast minstrel, easy and mean Gold on the cloth and mud on the green Talk like a prayer, grin like a theft Leave with the crowd still stepping left [Bridge – reduced beat, airy whistle synth, held hurdy-gurdy drone, mythic pause] For a breath the whole place went thin— Just dust, bright cloth, and the heat on skin One reed line hanging above the stone Like the road had a king and it walked alone I ain’t wear silk, and I ain’t wear rings Still moved that lane like a court of kings Some men ride high with a jeweled train Some drift through town and rewrite the frame [Solo – featured bagpipes solo with shawm answers over slow G-funk groove, deep bass, hurdy-gurdy drone] [Final Chorus – biggest bagpipes hook, fullest bass, whistle synth shining, market-wide groove] West Coast minstrel, slow through the square Bass in the timber, sun in the air Bagpipes singing while the lane leans wide Whole damn market on a lowrider glide West Coast minstrel, dust and sheen Crooked old road with a royal lean Came in alone, left none untouched Whole damn town still under that hush [Outro – bass fading, last bagpipes phrase, hurdy-gurdy drone lingering] By dusk the stalls had thinned to thread Ash in the brazier, wine gone red But one long note still rode that bend— Like the lane knew I’d be back again
