| Song | Slow Man |
| Artist | Sage Francis |
| Album | Li[f]e |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 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. 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. |
| 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 knowitall homogeneous types. The lookalikes. | |
| 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. 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. |
| 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 knowitall homogeneous types. The lookalikes. | |
| 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. 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. |