About the song
A story for this song hasn’t been added yet.
Words from the artist’s archive
Signal Click lyrics
Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.
Read the lyric sheet
Intro
Still ain’t moved. Here go the session.
Verse 1
I-95 southbound, sun cookin’ the dash like it got a attitude, every lane a parking lot, this a hostage situation in the open with no gratitude. Camry on the right both hands out the window like the spirit done tapped out, needle on the E, AC blowin’ weak, transponder go beep while the mood stay in drought. Brake light, brake light, a whole red sea I can’t part, so I knock on the wheel and a whole drumline start from the heart. Palm trees on the median leanin’ like they tired of watchin’ the same thing, mind already at the exit while the body still stuck in the same lane.
Pre-chorus
Clock on the dash say I’m losin’ the day, needle on E but I’m cookin’ anyway. Foot off the brake, roll a inch then it stop, let the blinker… drop.
Chorus
Stuck in traffic, flow automatic, brake lights blinkin’, got the pen on static. Bumper to bumper but the bars keep stackin’, Palmetto locked, still the verse keep crackin’. Sheesh. Engine idle but the mind ain’t idle, caught in a jam so I jammed, made it vinyl. Blinker keep the time, them horns is the choir, ain’t moved a inch but the flow gettin’ higher.
Verse 2
The eight twenty-six to the eight thirty-six, it’s a knot in the city that don’t never untie, rent due on the first, boss gonna dock if I show up late and I’m dry. Road rage risin’ off the asphalt either way it go, but anger is a engine that’ll idle you to nothin’, I already know. So I shift it, take the static, make the static function, turn the frustration into the drum that I’m punchin’. Uber Eats bag gettin’ cold in the passenger seat like it know the deal, thirty minutes in and I still ain’t moved but the pen got a meal.
Pre-chorus
Clock on the dash say I’m losin’ the day, needle on E but I’m cookin’ anyway. Foot off the brake, roll a inch then it stop, let the blinker… drop.
Chorus
Stuck in traffic, flow automatic, brake lights blinkin’, got the pen on static. Bumper to bumper but the bars keep stackin’, Palmetto locked, still the verse keep crackin’. Sheesh. Engine idle but the mind ain’t idle, caught in a jam so I jammed, made it vinyl. Blinker keep the time, them horns is the choir, ain’t moved a inch but the flow gettin’ higher.
Verse 3
The whole 305 is a instrument played slow, every red light a measure, every honk a note. I finally took it, the city been a studio, never had to book it, patience ain’t a weakness, it’s a pocket you can ride in. The wait was the woodshed, now the verse is what I’m writin’, thirty minutes lost but the session was the tithe I was payin’.
Bridge
(hold up) That blinker been on count the whole time, clickin’ out a tempo while I’m writin’ every line. Thirty minutes lost? Nah, that was studio rent, the toll I thought I paid was the best dime I spent. Sheesh. The jam was the session, the jam was the session.
Verse 4
So if you stuck on Sheridan or boxed up on Stirling, Miami Gardens standstill and your whole day burnin’, make a beat out the blinker, make a verse out the boredom, turn a Tuesday on the Palmetto to a record, record ’em. 954 to the 305, we was raised on the grind, struck frustration like a match, watch it burn to a line.
Verse 5
Up ahead the lane is breakin’, the asphalt finally movin’, brake lights goin’ green and the bumpers start to loosen. Thirty minutes in the jam and I came out with the loot, one verse, two, three, I filled the whole commute. Signal on, I merge, and the Glades finally let me through, drove off with a song the traffic never knew.
Outro
Thirty minutes, one song. Sheesh. That’s the point: flow automatic, make it anywhere. [Loop] Stuck in traffic, flow automatic, brake lights blinkin’, got the pen on static. Bumper to bumper but the bars keep stackin’, Palmetto locked, still the verse keep crackin’. Sheesh. Engine idle but the mind ain’t idle, caught in a jam so I jammed, made it vinyl. Blinker keep the time, them horns is the choir, ain’t moved a inch but the flow gettin’ higher.
Inside the recording
Still ain’t moved. Here go the session.
Clock on the dash say I’m losin’ the day, needle on E but I’m cookin’ anyway.
Stuck in traffic, flow automatic, brake lights blinkin’, got the pen on static.
Excerpts from artist-supplied lyric files matched by title. Lyric sheets may differ from the released performance.