Lyrics [Spoken Intro — dry close female vocal, sparse tenor steelpan pulse, deep sub underneath] I wear the light across my face, then break, leave something shining in my wake. You think you know how far I’ll come, how near, then one more step and I’m right here. I never make a promise I can’t keep. You read the surface. I run deep. [Verse 1 — rolling jazz-hop groove, steelpan lead throughout, playful spoken-to-sung female delivery] Come a little closer, feel the tide. You think you know exactly where I’ll break? Step inside. I lift you when your feet forget the ground, pull you in. Leave you laughing, breathless, then I’m gone again. You like me when I’m rolling slow, warm against your skin. Every time you think you know me, I change again. Same rhythm, different wave. Same pull, different day. You call it random when I move. I call it what I do. [Pre-Chorus — high and low steelpans answer the short phrases, rhythmic tension rises] Read the waves, read the signs. Learn my rhythm, learn my time. Know the rise, know the fall. Knowing me doesn’t mean you know it all. [Chorus — steelpan ensemble opens wide, stronger sub pulse, restrained turntable punctuation] Never turn your back on me, respect me. Love the way I pull you close, don’t expect me to stay exactly where you left me last. I come in slow, then move fast. Every wave feels different, same tide. Every time you think you’ve got me, watch me slide. You can want me. You can know me. You can follow where I flow. But wanting me is not the same as control. [Verse 2 — groove recedes, intricate staccato steelpan figures, light scratches between phrases] Sometimes I carry you where you want to go. Sometimes I turn beneath you before you know. One moment soft enough to make you stay. The next one rolls beneath your feet and pulls away. You call me gentle. Call me wild. Call me dangerous. Call me mild. None of those names change what I am. You name the water. I move around your hands. No anger in the taking. No kindness in the save. Nothing personal beneath an ordinary wave. I never changed the rhythm. Never chose. You only noticed when the water rose. [Pre-Chorus 2 — rapid steelpan ostinato underneath, low pans answer high pans] Look above, feel below. Something distant makes me flow. You can’t touch it. Can’t command. Still it moves me where I stand. Moon pulls high. Moon pulls low. Some things move me you don’t control. [Chorus — steelpan ensemble opens wide, turntables answer only between phrases] Never turn your back on me, respect me. Love the way I pull you close, don’t expect me to stay exactly where you left me last. I come in slow, then move fast. Every wave feels different, same tide. Every time you think you’ve got me, watch me slide. You can want me. You can know me. You can follow where I flow. But wanting me is not the same as control. [Bridge — half-time pulse, low steelpans forward, sparse sharp tenor-pan answers] My face can change before you blink. I’m deeper than you think. Chaos where you see me move. Order in the groove. Learn my rhythm. Learn it well. Feel the rise. Read the swell. Come close enough and you might see: familiar isn’t ownership of me. You may know where I have been. That doesn’t tell you how I’ll come back in. [Final Chorus — full steelpan ensemble, intricate rhythmic interplay, deepest sub lift] Never turn your back on me, respect me. Love me enough to never underestimate me. I can carry you toward the shore. I can leave you wanting more. Every wave comes different, same tide. Every time you think you’ve caught me, I decide— No. I don’t decide. That’s the thing. I only move beneath the pull that makes me swing. In, out. Rise, retreat. Come close, pull back. Beat, beat, beat. I am not scenery. I move. I am not something you can prove you own because you learned my flow. [Outro — steelpan pulse and sub only] Never turn your back on me. Not because I hate you. Not because I love you. Just because you think you know me doesn’t mean you do. What am I? The tide? The waves? Me? Or maybe all three.
0/500