Kickin' It (Loose)

[Intro — bright guitar scrape, four-count on the sticks, then a huge boot stomp into a filthy dance-rock groove] [THUMP!] Oh, relax. Nobody's processing trauma today. [grinning] We're just gonna hit stuff. [Verse I — bouncing rebel-rock groove] Woke up with too much energy, nowhere good to put it, music hit, my ears went up— So fuck it. Let's do it. Hair's a mess, boots are buckled, coffee barely halfway through, some idiot picked a fight outside— Well, that's convenient too. Duck left. Step right. Little shuffle with the hips. Catch a punch. Spin around. Put a boot between his— [music cuts] Ribs. What? [beat returns] I'm behaving. Mostly. [Verse II — funkier bass, playful guitar] There's something really satisfying 'bout a fight that's just a fight. Nobody's saving all existence. Nobody's ruining my life. No tortured fucking metaphor. No destiny involved. Just six assholes with bad judgment— And a problem I can actually solve. One! [THUMP!] Two! [THUMP!] Three! [THUMP!] Four went through the door. Five is reconsidering what he came in here for. Six looks at the other five, then looks at me— [FuFu, sweetly] Smart boy. [Chorus — huge dance-rock hook] Kickin' it! [THUMP! THUMP!] Kickin' it loose! Got nothing to prove and nothing to lose! Hands in the air! Boots on the floor! If somebody starts trouble— WE MAKE ROOM FOR MORE! Kick left! Spin right! Shake off the bruise! Tonight I'm not fighting my demons— I'M JUST KICKIN' IT LOOSE! [Verse III — beat gets almost club-rock; fight sounds become percussion] DJ never stopped playing. Honestly? Professional. Table broke on the downbeat. Bottle rolled past— [kick] Percussion! Somebody swings. I duck. He hits his friend. [FuFu laughs] Oh, that's going in the choreography. Slide across the bar. Two-step on the floor. Somebody says, “You wanna take this outside?” Why? There's music in here. I don't need anger. Don't need rage. Don't need some reason why. Sometimes you've got a good beat, a bad guy, and thighs. [beat] I meant— No. Actually. I'm keeping that line. [Chorus — bigger, backing vocals answering] [FUFU] Kickin' it! [BACKING] Loose! [FUFU] Kickin' it! [BACKING] Loose! [FUFU] No tragic past! [BACKING] Not tonight! [FUFU] No existential— [BACKING] SHUT UP AND FIGHT! [FuFu laughs] Exactly! Kick left! Spin right! Shake off the bruise! Tonight I'm not fighting my demons— I'M JUST KICKIN' IT LOOSE! [Verse IV — everything turns into joyous controlled chaos] Maybe tomorrow gets complicated. Tomorrow usually does. Maybe I'll write something meaningful about identity and love. But right now there's a bass line doing filthy things downstairs, and some jackass just threw a chair at me— [CRASH] Motherfucker. That was my favorite chair. [guitar riff] Okay. Now it's personal. One boot! Two boots! Bunny coming through! Hair flying everywhere! Ears bouncing out of tune! Laughing while I'm swinging! Dancing while I bruise! God, I fucking love being alive— WHEN I KICK IT LOOSE! [Final Chorus — full arena/club explosion] KICKIN' IT! KICKIN' IT LOOSE! No lesson tonight! No deeper truth! Just turn that shit up till it rattles these boots! THUMP! Hit! THUMP! Spin! THUMP! Shake! THUMP! Move! Tonight I don't need saving— I got nothing to prove! I'm not running from yesterday! Not chasing tomorrow! I'm right fucking here— And I'm having a ball! [music drops except bass] So if you're looking for trouble... [FuFu, cheerfully] Take a number. [massive final stomp] I'M KICKIN' IT LOOSE! [guitar squeal; laughter] Hey! Who broke my chair? [pause] Oh. Right. Me.