[Style: Cheeky baggy funk groove, slap bass riffs, hip-hop breakbeat, wah-wah scratches, playful drawling male lead, soulful backing choir] [Tempo: 102 BPM, slinky, loose, rhythmic swagger] [Intro] [Drums start alone: dusty, shuffling hip-hop breakbeat] [Dry cowbell counts in on quarter notes] [Thick, rubbery slap bass riff bounces in] [Spoken banter, cheeky Manchester street humor, Shaun Ryder swagger] Watch your fingers, mate. Comb it out. Proper tangled up in here. [Organ stabs punctuate each measure] [Verse 1] [Casual, rhythmic spoken-singing with playful grit] Woke up twisted like a knot in a twine Ten past midday and I feel benign Strands on the pillow like a spider’s web Tide running backwards on a velvet ebb Greasy sideburns brushing on the telephone wire Frying yesterday’s supper on a kerosene fire You come walking round with a tortoiseshell clip Giving unsolicited fashion advice from your hip [Pre-Chorus] [Bass line climbs down, hi-hat opens up] [Soulful female backing vocal harmonizes: "Don't tug it now!"] Pull the roots, twist the braid Stand right out in the midday shade Mirror’s cracked right through the glass Let that foolish vanity pass! [Chorus] [Explosion of cheeky funk, massive bouncy hook, brass-like organ punches] [Female vocal choir doubling the lead on key phrases] Got your fingers caught up in my hair! Staring down the ceiling like nobody’s there! Comb it out, part the waves, leave it all a mess— That's the only kind of crown that I possess! Tangled up! Shook it down! Strutting like a peacock through this one-horse town! [Post-Chorus] [Wah-wah guitar funks out with tambourine and slap bass] [Spoken ad-lib: "Leave it be. It grows wild."] [Verse 2] Static electricity crackling on the synthetic quilt Standing on the parquet floor completely tilt Found a yellow bobby pin underneath the couch Counting out the pennies in an old leather pouch Barbershop pole spinning outside in the fog Barking at the pavement like an unruly dog You tell me that I look like a briar patch gone wrong Well, put it in your pipe and just hum my song [Pre-Chorus] [Organ chord progression swells, bass thumps hard] [Soulful backing vocal: "Don't tug it now!"] Pull the roots, twist the braid Stand right out in the midday shade Mirror’s cracked right through the glass Let that foolish vanity pass! [Chorus] [Full blast, playful delivery, driving groove] Got your fingers caught up in my hair! Staring down the ceiling like nobody’s there! Comb it out, part the waves, leave it all a mess— That's the only kind of crown that I possess! Tangled up! Shook it down! Strutting like a peacock through this one-horse town! [Bridge] [Tempo remains steady, music drops into a spaced-out dub groove] [Echo on snare rimshots, deep sub-bass pulse] [Vocal drops to an intimate, mischievous murmur, Bez-style hype-man chants in background] Splitting ends. Wigs on fence posts. Dandruff falling like snow on ghosts. [Call and response with gospel backing singer] (What you got to hide?) Just a bird’s nest resting on the inside! (Can you shake it loose?) No point struggling in a velvet noose! [Instrumental Interlude] [Extended funk break: dirty wah-guitar solo over heavy slap bass] [Organ glissando sliding up and down] [Percussion breakdown with timbales and cowbell] [Chorus] [All instruments hit at maximum swing, backing singers belting loud] Got your fingers caught up in my hair! Staring down the ceiling like nobody’s there! Comb it out, part the waves, leave it all a mess— That's the only kind of crown that I possess! Tangled up! Shook it down! Strutting like a peacock through this one-horse town! [Outro] [Extended groove groove-out, drums and bass cycling relentlessly] Leave it long. Let it blow. Fingers in the hair, where’d the weekend go? [Chanted backing vocals fade gradually into the groove] (Tangled up, let it blow...) Catch your nails. Don't slip. [Slap bass plucks a final slide down to silence] [End]
