Lyric

Steam on the mirror, marker in my hand—

One spark, one riff—BRASS BAND, STAND!

They swear it’s an old king’s song, a borrowed crown

But I’m the one who wrote it when the lights went down

Hotel tub, cheap soap, heartbeat metronome

Ten minutes of trouble and it followed me home

No perfect polish, no plastic shine—

Just lungs, spit, brass, and a bassline spine

If the world says “be quiet,” we answer “too late,”

Kick the door, hit the skank, let the horns detonate

THIS LITTLE RIOT CALLED LOVE—(HEY!)

I CAN’T HOLD IT, I CAN’T SHUT IT UP—(HEY!)

Low-end thunder in my chest like a fist in a club

THIS LITTLE RIOT CALLED LOVE—(HEY!)

WE GET LOUDER WHEN IT GETS TOO ROUGH—(HEY!)

If you feel that shake, say the code with us:

CIRCLE PIT! CIRCLE PIT!

No robot on my voice, no safety net

I sing it raw and I don’t regret

Leather on the bike, grin on my face

I ride that groove like a street-race bass

They try to label me, put me in a frame—

But the room goes wild when they chant my name

Generations pass, but the beat won’t die

Your dad starts smiling when the trumpets fly

For the ones who feel alone in a crowded room

We turn that ache into a dancing boom

Hands up high—two-step, then dive

Brass in the air makes the night feel alive

(Whisper → shout)

Not a copy, not a ghost—

I’m the spark that you can’t diagnose!

THIS LITTLE RIOT CALLED LOVE—(HEY!)

I CAN’T HOLD IT, I CAN’T SHUT IT UP—(HEY!)

Sub-bass heavy, horns bright—shake the dust!

THIS LITTLE RIOT CALLED LOVE—(HEY!)

WE GET LOUDER WHEN IT GETS TOO ROUGH—(HEY!)

If you feel that shake, say the code with us:

CIRCLE PIT! CIRCLE PIT!

Wrote it in steam

Sang it in fire

Now move