BENIGN TASTE

[Verse B: the phrase turns downward over the same pulse; keys and bass blend through the change]
Turn that spoon. Take the sweetness down.
Walk through the taste I was walking around.
Let it bite. Let it stay.
Find what the sugar had hidden away.
I don't have to love it to see what's there;
Don't have to stay for the view.
Down from the ridge with the map in my hand,
I find another way through.

[Chorus: fully sung, warm and unforced; generous chord colors, buoyant bass, open melody]
MY MOUTH, MY HOURS.
I CHOOSE THE BITE. I CHOOSE THE TIME.
FOLLOW THE FLAVOUR.
I CAN CHANGE WHAT BETTER MEANS.
UP FOR THE VIEW,
DOWN FOR A ROAD I HAVEN'T TRIED.
MY MOUTH, MY HOURS.
ROOM TO CHANGE MY MIND.

[Verse C: keys gradually leave more gaps; bass and offbeat echoes lead into roomy dub space, same easy pulse]
Both ways followed the sugar line.
What did we pass while we picked our sides?
Smoked salt waits at the back of the shelf:
A taste neither road could find by itself.
I bring what I've learned to the unfamiliar bite,
Let the old map open wide.
There's more to this meal than the fight on that ridge.
There's more than one way to decide.

[Verse D: the opening phrase returns gently reshaped; familiar keys rejoin the bass and echoes without closing the space]
Turn both labels toward the wall.
Let the first surprise die down.
Try the old taste beside the new;
Which one do I want around?
Some days sweeter. Some days smoke.
Some days something I've yet to find.
I get to change what a good meal means.
I can put down the spoon for tonight.

[Instrumental: eight bars; bass carries the descending phrase, clean guitar answers, warm keys ease back in]

[Final Chorus: fully sung, harmonically generous and easy; the opening lift returns with room around it]
MY MOUTH, MY HOURS.
I CHOOSE THE BITE. I CHOOSE THE TIME.
FOLLOW THE FLAVOUR.
I CAN CHANGE WHAT BETTER MEANS.
UP FOR THE VIEW,
DOWN FOR A ROAD I HAVEN'T TRIED.
MY MOUTH, MY HOURS.
ROOM TO CHANGE MY MIND.

[Outro: relaxed sung lines; warm unforced finish, bass settles and the last echoes breathe]
Keep the pencil.
Leave some room.

2508/7500

[Verse A: close melodic lead; gently rising phrase over warm keys and a crooked soul/funk pocket] Midnight. Pan hot. Sleeve rolled high. Bones on the board. Let the pepper wait. Sweet on the tongue; there's a lift in the bite. I make one change, then I taste. Follow that rise till the climb goes flat. Put a pencil mark where I'm at. Good from here. That's good to know. The edge of the light isn't all of the road. [Verse B: the phrase turns downward over the same pulse; keys and bass blend through the change] Turn that spoon. Take the sweetness down. Walk through the taste I was walking around. Let it bite. Let it stay. Find what the sugar had hidden away. I don't have to love it to see what's there; Don't have to stay for the view. Down from the ridge with the map in my hand, I find another way through. [Chorus: fully sung, warm and unforced; generous chord colors, buoyant bass, open melody] MY MOUTH, MY HOURS. I CHOOSE THE BITE. I CHOOSE THE TIME. FOLLOW THE FLAVOUR. I CAN CHANGE WHAT BETTER MEANS. UP FOR THE VIEW, DOWN FOR A ROAD I HAVEN'T TRIED. MY MOUTH, MY HOURS. ROOM TO CHANGE MY MIND. [Verse C: keys gradually leave more gaps; bass and offbeat echoes lead into roomy dub space, same easy pulse] Both ways followed the sugar line. What did we pass while we picked our sides? Smoked salt waits at the back of the shelf: A taste neither road could find by itself. I bring what I've learned to the unfamiliar bite, Let the old map open wide. There's more to this meal than the fight on that ridge. There's more than one way to decide. [Verse D: the opening phrase returns gently reshaped; familiar keys rejoin the bass and echoes without closing the space] Turn both labels toward the wall. Let the first surprise die down. Try the old taste beside the new; Which one do I want around? Some days sweeter. Some days smoke. Some days something I've yet to find. I get to change what a good meal means. I can put down the spoon for tonight. [Instrumental: eight bars; bass carries the descending phrase, clean guitar answers, warm keys ease back in] [Final Chorus: fully sung, harmonically generous and easy; the opening lift returns with room around it] MY MOUTH, MY HOURS. I CHOOSE THE BITE. I CHOOSE THE TIME. FOLLOW THE FLAVOUR. I CAN CHANGE WHAT BETTER MEANS. UP FOR THE VIEW, DOWN FOR A ROAD I HAVEN'T TRIED. MY MOUTH, MY HOURS. ROOM TO CHANGE MY MIND. [Outro: relaxed sung lines; warm unforced finish, bass settles and the last echoes breathe] Keep the pencil. Leave some room.

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