The Beat
Don’t ask me to explain it. It's just that feeling,
when the beat hits, when the beat hits.
And the wind is whipping through the trees and the roses and the sun shines
down,
and the beat hits, and the beat hits.
And I’m in my own world, apart from all around me, lost, found,
when the beat hits, when the beat hits.
And my aorta is swelled with hip hop and the world hangs for a moment,
then the beat hits, then the beat hits.
Headphones on, funk in my walk, jazzy twist in my smile,
as the beat hits, as the beat hits.
There’s a rhythm to the world, even the busses and pedestrians,
when the beat hits, when the beat hits.
Kudzu grows and buildings fall, the city sleeps, the city wakes,
as the beat hits, as the beat hits.
And the wind is whipping through the trees and the roses and the sun shines,
and the beat hits, and the beat hits.