Lyrics Joel Dias-Porter – Subterranean Night-Colored Magi

Subterranean Night-Colored Magi Lyrics – Joel Dias-Porter

Singer: Joel Dias-Porter
Title: Subterranean Night-Colored Magi

Subterranean is deep
Like a mine shaft
Didn’t Miles dig minor chords
Decrescendoing

To the motherlode
Unearthing indigo undersongs
Wasn’t Miles on tectonic trumpet
Blowing seismic solos

Riffing down Richter’s scale
Spelunking funky rhythms
Seven steps deeper
Than the next cat

Painting all up
Under the canvas
Making it bleed
All Blues

Didn’t Miles, son of a dentist do rootwork
With a hoodoo horn
Hollering Bebop toasts
Wasn’t he Petey Wheatstraw

Satchmo’s son-in-law
A Signifyin Junkie
Pulling the monkey off his back
Shine below thе deck of the Titanic

Blueing up its boilеrs
Couldn’t Miles blue like Bird
Freight like Trane
Early like Bird

Night like Trane
Wing like Bird
Rail like a Trane
Rumbling underground

Nightcolor is blacker
Than a million miles of fresh asphalt
Wasn’t Miles black and fluid as floating smoke
Black as the sky round midnight

Black as a tire turning for miles ahead
Black kettle stewing a b#tch’s Brew
So black, he was Kind of Blue
Wasn’t Miles, slick as black ice

Cool as black snow
Sweet as black cherries
On the Downbeat like a blackjack
A black jackhammer

Black Jack Johnson
Black jack of all
Trumpeting trades
Wasn’t Miles, the Jack of Spades

An Ace cuz he played
Nightcolors
From inkblack
Purpleblack

Oilblack
Cinderblack
Coalblack
Ashblack

To bottom of the holeblack
His Dark Majesty
Shifting harmonic gears
In a chromatic Ferrari

Blowing modal Moods
With his black turned to the audience
Speaking cooly
In the colors of night

Magi are High Priests
Spell-wailing wizards
Wasn’t Miles a muted Druid
Of the Blues

Magus, Magus? ask minders
Of the metronome
Miles is secular they say
But ain’t he a soloing sorcerer with E.S.P

Testifying in the key of B
Magi Miles conjuring styles
Even sporting a Tutu
Didn’t his 5,280 feet

Travel 1.6 sacred klicks
Wasn’t he moody as any Monk
Live and Evil
Doing the East Saint Boogie

But In a Silent Way
His deep black hands
Casting a net of swinging chords
Casting spells in lacquered brass

Casting Milestones
Through the stained-glass
Windows of Jazz
Have mercy

Ain’t he Rev. Miles
Rehearsing verses
From the Book of the Blues
Running the Voodoo down

While carrying us up those
Seven Steps to Heaven
Making a joyful noise
Unto the lyrical Lord
Find more lyrics at lyrics.jspinyin.net

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Lyrics Joel Dias-Porter – Subterranean Night-Colored Magi

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You can purchase their music thru 
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