Guitar Lessons in Bed Stuy Brooklyn

Bathe my body In the coldest of ice
Coat my tongue with the Witch’s spice
Take me to the wiccan Take me down
I will pay my price
Draw out the fire, Lay your hands on me
Talk out the poison, Set my body free
This ancient arcana that you hold
Pour it down On the skin that you see
Push your needle into me, Deeper into my vein
Feel the potion burning into my soul
Come to me guru I am your voodoo doll

Help me I’m bleeding, Put a leech on my wound
Its burning it’s seething way down Into my womb
My case is an emergency Heal me now
Or I fear, My blood will bloom
Push your needle into me Deeper into my vein
Feel the potion burning into my soul
Come to me guru I am your voodoo doll

I’ve a gash in my … Twist the tourniquet tight
Will I recover, Am I blessing or blight
I fear I may be communicable Tie me down
I may rave into the night
Push your needle into me, Deeper into my vein
Let me hear you say the words as you fall
Come for me guru I am your voodoo doll

The stately stoops the wrought iron gates, the tulip trees in bloom
The sun so cool on the walk to school, and the Macs in the coffee shop smile at the meter cop
The mansions tall the mansard roof Queen Anne our Facebook friend
The school a dream of a mommy team, and the dads on the Citi Bike ride for a cleaner life
The library is overfull the babies have the floor
Let’s sign the search more bike lanes in the church, volunteer at the local Y
The brown-skinned child with eyes of blue, two moms don’t need a dad
The well heels stroll with the rent control, All the kids playing in the grass
drink from the same glass
Silent films underneath the bridge, with soundtracks performed alive
The bearded chin says that art lives again, gone is the tragic flaw
Saint Matthew Mark has condo-ed up, rose window above the bed
We now entertain where they used to abstain
Seek our hearts on the yoga matt with a back perfectly flat
The train from work to after school is double overtime
The mother’s phone, little fingers roam as her second shift begins/
The moon is waning in the orange night, the stars cannot be seen
Little tears of rain on the walk from the train as the lights on the parlor floor wane

Tell me Mister Moon,
are you jealous of the stars as they keep their place and know right where they are
Guiding travelers by mapping earth and sky
Do you wish, you could stop your wandering?

Tell me Mister Moon, are you jealous of the sea
With its endless waves and tireless energy
Tides no one can tame, never wax or wane
Do you wish you could be forever full?

Or is it better alone? To be free without a home
Can you see into my soul and feel the hole?

Tell me Mister Moon, are you jealous of the sky
Who makes room for all that may come passing by
Never grounds a gale, never halts the hail
Do you wish you could smile at everything?

Or is it better alone? To be free without a home
Can you see into my soul and feel the hole?
That can never be filled by what it bought or what is built
Do we share a joyful heart of sadness?

Tell me Mister Moon, are you jealous of the sun
Who unites us all and binds us into one
Begging her for light just to show your face at night
Does it burn that no one circles ‘round you?

Or is it better alone? To be free without a home
Can you see into my soul and feel the hole?
That can never be filled by what it bought or what is built
Do we share a joyful heart of sadness?
That can never be filled by what it bought or what is built
Do we share a joyful heart of sadness?