Graveyard Second Line

funk, Swampy New Orleans jazz-funk groove, dirty brass and sly clavinet over a lurching, swung backbeat, Verses in a smoky, half-spoken male vocal, bass walking with greasy slides, Chorus hits with full horn stabs, gang shouts, and a gritty call-and-response, Drums and baritone sax lock in for a short breakdown before the final chorus, leaving room for ominous ad-libs and eerie organ swells, new orleans jazz

V4.5-ALL

[Verse 1] You cut the corner Slip that line Laugh in the mirror Say you’re fine Shuffle past the preacher Eyes on your phone Step over candles Names carved in stone [Chorus] Keep doin’ what you’re doin’ See where that road runs through Crossroads waitin’ at midnight Got a front row seat for you Keep doin’ what you’re doin’ Hear that low drum start to bruise Every step you’re takin’ Somethin’ out there tracks your shoes [Verse 2] Cards on the table Face down Still warm Old woman in the doorway Feels that storm Smoke crawls upward Spells your name Glass in the gutter Smells like blame [Chorus] [Bridge] You feel that floorboard breathe? That chill up your spine? (oh yeah) That ain’t bad luck Baby That’s a deadline Sirens in the distance Sound kinda like a band Marchin’ slow behind you Waitin’ on your last stand [Chorus]

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