im a slow man looking for a slow woman who wants to slow dance im a slow man in my slow man stance looking for a slow woman who dont care that im old lookin or got my soul tooken back where the fallen angels land i know brooklyn like the back of a strangers hand cant recognize my owni wing it though i bring it home familiaritys the first thing to go next thing you knowtheres a photo that youre staring at and you cant quite place the face that is staring back someone erased the names and the facts dates on the back maybe theyre just fading so fast that you cant keep up with it cant recover it lost in the shuffle of the grand prix hustlers if you cant keep up to speed with the mother ship and cant take the heat then your man needs the oven mitts i cant 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 didnt roll right all my jobs were odd ones my problems had bold type snow white didnt expect that id leave er the strobe light set off epileptic seizures i know right from wrong when i write these songs my goals in life aint what i set my sights on slow man x3 gotta get up and go man i know man its like im half of a whole man gotta get back on the program so lets go man im a slow manin my slow man stance looking for a slow woman who wants to slow dance im a slow man in my slow man stance looking for a slow woman who dont mind my home cookin im no good when im a bad bad man im gonna dance so slow that it appears to be my last stand but im a bad bad man im 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