[INTRO] Get low Get up Get low Get up Pan Fryer says the body wants better luck Not luck from wishing Luck from motion helping flow Blood in the boots and breath in the ribs will in the locomotion [VERSE 1] Stand on one leg in the kitchen light Let the little foot labor till the hip learns right Pet the dog down low where the floorboards live Show the spine and the ankles what the old gods give Deep squat, long thought, heels near flat if you can Hands in the dirt zone, front field of man We were built before desks, before screens, before spin Before the chair ate hours and the stiffness settled in So rock in the hollow and pry loose the knees Let the calves complain and the pelvis find ease A couple weights in your life, but never worship load Just enough to keep some thunder in the tendon and the code [PRE-CHORUS] You do not need a bunker full of iron to begin You need a patch of floor and reasoned mind within skin A little daily discipline, a little less excuse A stretch more elastic truth, a little more release [HOOK] Get low, glow slow, load light, hold right Toes grip, hips dip, rib rise, eyes bright Knee bend, heel send, lean clean, spine spring Breathe deep, beast sleep, wake the whole wiring Roll, rock, rack the rhythm, let the marrow make music Sift stiff, shift swift, do not doom-scroll through it Less chairtato, more rare gait though More bare foot balance with a brave, plain halo One leg, long lag, small shake, still stay Whole frame learning what the floor has to say Low load, old code, soul mode, no sludge Move much, groove touch, dog nudge, dawn drudge Sit less, split stress, twist chest, think thick Loose loops, true troops, tendons tune quick Get low, get up, get lit, get limber Keep the kindle in the kin, keep the glimmer in the timber Hip hinge, rib ring, spring string, sing strong This body was a workshop way before the desk went wrong [VERSE 2] Balance on the yoga roller like Pan Fryer can Not for circus points, but to season up the span From the sole to the skull, from the arch to the ear A body likes challenge when the dosage is clear Stand a while single-legged, let the wobbles preach Tiny tremors teaching what no sermon could reach Then sink to the squat till the backside wakes Till the ankles stop lying and the low back breaks Breaks from the bad spell, not breaks into pain Measure the edge with a thoughtful rein Touch the ground in front of you, sort the world by hand That is older than the office and more honest than the brand Pet the dog, pick a thing up, kneel, pivot, rise Keep the muscles voting and the apathy surprised [PRE-CHORUS] You were not designed for permanent chair Not for slack-jawed glowing stale recycled air Move often, move plain, move funny if you must Motion is maintenance and rust is rust [HOOK] Get low, glow slow, load light, hold right Toes grip, hips dip, rib rise, eyes bright Knee bend, heel send, lean clean, spine spring Breathe deep, beast sleep, wake the whole wiring Roll, rock, rack the rhythm, let the marrow make music Sift stiff, shift swift, do not doom-scroll through it Less chairtato, more rare gait though More bare foot balance with a brave, plain halo One leg, long lag, small shake, still stay Whole frame learning what the floor has to say Low load, old code, soul mode, no sludge Move much, groove touch, dog nudge, dawn drudge Sit less, split stress, twist chest, think thick Loose loops, true troops, tendons tune quick Get low, get up, get lit, get limber Keep the kindle in the kin, keep the glimmer in the timber Hip hinge, rib ring, spring string, sing strong This body was a workshop way before the desk went wrong [BREAKDOWN] Think about it Think thick, not sick A screen can serve A chair can help But a life in a chair turns a man to shelf Stand there and shake Squat there and breathe Touch earth level truth with your hands and teeth Not every day needs heroics Not every set needs strain Just move enough, often enough To keep command of your domain [VERSE 3] Pan Fryer laughs at the sedentary spell That soft little prison with the ergonomic sell Get a couple weights, sure, let the shoulders sip steel But nothing so heavy that you forget how fields feel Walk, crouch, carry, reach, rotate, rise Train for the real world right before your eyes For the dropped spoon, the weed patch, the dog at your shin For the awkward life moment where the ground calls you in When the years roll on, let them find you with range Not fused to a swivel in fluorescent exchange More motion, more mercy, more blood in the bark More life in the ligament, more spark in the dark [FINAL HOOK] Get low, glow slow, load light, hold right Toes grip, hips dip, rib rise, eyes bright Knee bend, heel send, lean clean, spine spring Breathe deep, beast sleep, wake the whole wiring Roll, rock, rack the rhythm, let the marrow make music Sift stiff, shift swift, do not doom-scroll through it Less chairtato, more rare gait though More bare foot balance with a brave, plain halo
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