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IF YOU DO THE GROOVE, LOWER YOURSELF!
Hey… Don’t look up. The ceiling is moving. Just follow the bass…
Purple shoes on a yellow street, Radio preacher got electric feet. Moon in my pocket, smoke in my brain, Somebody’s dancing inside the rain.
If you do the groove— lower yourself! If you feel it move— lower yourself! Down, down, down… Where the good things hide.
Saw my shadow drinking gasoline, Talking to a lady in a washing machine. She said, “Baby, your head’s too high!” So I kissed the floor and waved goodbye.
If you do the groove— lower yourself! If you feel it move— lower yourself! Down, down, down… Let the rhythm decide.
No upstairs. No downstairs. No yesterday.
Just a red light… a black cat… and somebody laughing inside my left shoe.