Swing Your Weight

[Verse 1]
Tap my shoes on a scuffed-up floor
Jacket on a chair, but I want more
They say sit down, but my fists say "when?"
I just laugh, roll my sleeves again (uh-huh)
[Chorus]
Swing your weight
Stand up straight
We ain't born to bend or break
Hands up high
Teeth on fire
Turn that trouble into choir
Swing your weight
Feel that heart drum hard
Every scar, every mark, that's our calling card
[Verse 2]
Luck ran out and the rent came due
Boss man barked, took my shade of blue
But I'm still here, with this crooked grin
Bet it all when the odds look thin (hey!)
[Chorus]
Swing your weight
Stand up straight
We ain't born to bend or break
Hands up high
Teeth on fire
Turn that trouble into choir
Swing your weight
Feel that heart drum hard
Every scar, every mark, that's our calling card
[Bridge]
Stagger, stumble
Never crumble
Count it out, one more round to go (one more)
Blood in your mouth
Shout it out loud
"I'll stay standing when they close this show"
[Chorus]
Swing your weight
Stand up straight
We ain't born to bend or break
Hands up high
Teeth on fire
Turn that trouble into choir
Swing your weight
Feel that heart drum hard
Every scar, every mark, that's our calling card
Swing your weight
Yeah, swing your weight (oh yeah)

jazz, Big-band swing blues with male vocals, live-room energy. Walking upright bass, shuffling drums on brushes that snap into sticks for the chorus, punchy horn section hits answering the vocal lines. Gritty blues guitar comping in the verses; brass blasts and gang shouts thicken the hook. Starts loose and playful, builds into a rafter-shaking fight-song chant with call-and-response ad-libs., swing, blues