Slow Man - Sage Francis

I’m a slow man…

Looking for a slow woman who wants to slow dance

I’m a slow man in my slow man stance

Looking for a slow woman who don’t care that I’m old lookin'

Or got my soul tooken back where the fallen angels land

I know Brooklyn like the back of a stranger’s hand

Can’t recognize my own… I wing it though

I bring it home.

Familiarity’s the first thing to go

Next thing you know… there's a photo that you’re staring at

And you can’t quite place the face that is staring back

Someone erased the names and the facts, dates on the back

Maybe they’re just fading so fast

That you can’t keep up with it.

Can’t recover it

Lost in the shuffle of the Grand Prix hustlers

If you can’t keep up to speed with the mother ship

And can’t take the heat then your man needs the oven mitts

I can’t be the judge of it.

My hands bleed

'cause they reached for some answers and got trampled by a stampede

Of know-it-all homogeneous types.

The look-alikes

The kids burn my music and the parents burn the books I write

I think back to those lonely Brooklyn nights

I was either soul searching or just looking for fights

Each woman had her price.

The dice didn’t roll right

All my jobs were odd ones, my problems had bold type

Snow White didn’t expect that I’d leave ‘er

The strobe light set off epileptic seizures

I know right from wrong when I write these songs

My goals in life ain’t what I set my sights on

Slow man.

X3

Gotta get up and go, man

I know, man.

It’s like I’m half of a whole man

Gotta get back on the program.

So let’s go, man

I’m a slow man… in my slow man stance

Looking for a slow woman who wants to slow dance

I’m a slow man in my slow man stance

Looking for a slow woman who don’t mind my home cookin'

I’m no good when I’m a bad, bad man

I’m gonna dance so slow that it appears to be my last stand

But I’m a bad bad man

I’m gonna dance so slow that it looks like a photo

Truth be told.

It takes more than having a picture taken for you to lose your

soul