The Professor Will Speak

Intro

mask on, class in session (mm)

turn the record slow, let the horn confessin' (huh)

paper moons, ink moons, ledger lesson (yuh)

(skid-skat) skrrt, tape hiss, low-tense breathe in

Verse

I walk with a map folded in the seams of my coat

teachin' algebra of shadows, numbers that choke

penned a sermon on a napkin, stamped it with smoke

merchant of murmurs, I barter the jokes I don't tote (mm)

vinyl crack underfoot like a code that I wrote

bass hums a sermon, piano bleeds notes (uh)

my syllables swing off-grid, like doors that don't close

I floss with consonants, floss with the ghosts (yeah)

paper-backed prophets, they cough ink on the floor

I catalogue contraband metaphors, more

pocket full of small suns, a lighter of lore

I barter silver verbs for keys to the door (huh)

chalk dust on my palms from diagrams I tore

stitch the lines with a stitch that remembers before

mask low, voice slow, lecture in minor scores

I teach riddles to kings and to cats on the floor (mm-mm)

Chorus

listen close (listen), the professor will speak (speak)

old horns cry, nights fold into week (week)

listen close (listen), the professor will speak (speak)

old horns cry, nights fold into week (week)

Verse

I migrate through gutters of grainy film frames

collect syllable coins, misplace all the names (yuh)

paper airplanes stutter, crash in the rain

I salvage the scraps, rearrange 'em again (uh)

my rhythm is crooked, like a handshake at dawn

I bend the vowels backward until they yawn (mm)

detuned bass hums like a prayer gone wrong

I stitch verses with nails and a tongue with a song

I cipher in corners where pigeons won't peck

I fold continents small, keep the atlas in check

a ledger of laugh-lines, a ledger of debt

I spit salt on the wounds that I never forget (huh)

rumors of prophets in basements agreeing to deals

I barter a howl for a moment that feels (feels)

line-breaks like caution tape, slow-motion reels

I speak in the static between reels and the heels (yeah)

Bridge

(mm) keep the mask on, keep the lesson low (low)

(uh) let the horn cry, let the records roll (roll)

(heh) count the coins, count the wrongs that we owe (owe)

(na-na) tip the brim, let the slow thing grow (grow)

Chorus

listen close (listen), the professor will speak (speak)

old horns cry, nights fold into week (week)

listen close (listen), the professor will speak (speak)

old horns cry, nights fold into week (week)