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Bushwick Book Club Presents Edgar Allen Poe

by Bushwick Book Club

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Edgar Allan Poe Song A Day #1446 In the rundown streets of Baltimore A man's howls at the moon He stands on the threshold of the Horse You Came In On Saloon Wearing someone else's clothes A patch of black bristles under his nose He is a broken ghost a husk that will float away Into the dark Which all of his dreams grabbed hold of And he'll reunite With all of his old loves With all of his old loves He was American Original He was the first of his kind Selling Fiction for a living Was unheard of in his time By millions loved and known But he was penniless and alone He went toe to toe with the night and now he'll float away And into the dark Where the pendulum just keeps swinging He disembarked As all of the angels singing All the women that you loved So completely They'll all come back to you now Kiss you sweetly Every nightmare that you've had Will fade away like fog on glass And we're sorry that you went through that But you are finally home
WE'LL DANCE ON YOUR GRAVE I’ve decided I love you, see Your bride it does seem nice to be But you’re terribly mean And I’m merrily meek So its best we live in silence Put some ground between our romance I’ve a place in the vally of nis Where you can lie, happily We’ll bury you deep A topiary I’ll keep Green at the top of your grave Beneath I know you’ll behave I’ll plant tulips down at your feet Purple like lonely hearts with secrets to keep The moon will shine bright With an unsteady light The tulips will dance It’s a shadow romance You may think our love macabre That I visit his grave pretending to sob But his unmarked grave Is the ring that enslaves The perfect matrimony I know that he’s not lonely CHORUS Oh, we’ll dance on your grave Me on the top And you below safe Oh we’ll dance on your grave For I love you so It’s just better this way I’ll place my head on the grasses Above your wooden casket Pound my fists on the ground And listen for the sound Of your Tap tap tapping, you were only napping What joy it will bring To hear your heart beat And rise up six feet CHORUS Oh, we’ll dance on your grave Me on the top And you below safe Oh we’ll dance on your grave For I love you so It’s just better this way
You burrowing bedouins of brown boards Bedeviling bedfellows of hidden humbuggery, bald faced bed-thuggery: begone! You midnight butlers with your little spoons and platters, Your teensy cuts and your tiny platters We, we woke befuddled, bewildered and bedraggled to find You little beasts, you made a feast - a meal - of us! And we're quite nonplussed You unbeloved, unbeknownst and unbeknowable babbling beasts You cold-souled blood-dabblers, crawling, skulking grabbers, secret midnight blatherers: We heard your chirping, smirking chatter in our dreams As you invited every Tom, Dick & Harry to your revolting gathering In sum, you made us glum You sucked us like a plum But we, old chum, are not exactly tweedledum: Because we too can learn the black art of bed-buggery So with a sniffing snout we found you out Through drips and drabs of poison salves We tracked your tracks through slits of slats Slivered through the gaps of gaps, Then sent burning boulders down the shafts Shook from your shacks like rumbled rats We cracked your seeping code of cracks! Through all those nights that you smirked and you glowered Held us in your pincers power Mocked us from your throne of devoured We found your buried seat of power We toppled down your final tower And all the walls and floors have scoured So now, bedbugs, be gone and stay out!
Oh, Edgar Poe The first time I read your letter I wondered…couldn’t you say this better? If not better, then at least shorter That’s not a request…that’s an order Oh, Edgar Poe, write me…nevermore Oh, Edgar Poe, write me…nevermore I’m sorry but I find you a bore (don’t want to hear about a corpse in the floor) You’re all lather and froth And frankly, I’m not into goth Oh, Edgar Poe, write me…nevermore Tendentious, portentous, and craven The only one who’ll listen’s a raven Don’t you find it a little absurd To admit in writing that your best friend’s a bird Oh, Edgar Poe, write me…nevermore A girl…wants to go to the dance Less torture porn…more romance Surely it’s in your powers to see it’s better to start with flowers?
Did you ever have a day when you're trying to drink And your favorite cat walks in and your tiny heart sinks Because just yesterday you hung it from a string And now your wife's in the way when you got an axe you're trying to swing Did you ever meet someone with a filmy blue eye And when he looks at you, it's kinda hard to describe You even like this man, but you know he's got to die So you carry out a plan in the middle of the night. Do you chop it up And burn the bits Or throw it in a well or Do you pack it in a box and ship it Dig a grave down in the cellar What do you do with a corpse Don’t you worry about the smell And also how do you know When someone’s dead Sometimes it’s hard to tell When your friend’s beloved sister dies one tragic afternoon Do you hold off on the burial and lock her in a room On a dark and stormy night when she rises from the tomb You will realize she was only in a cataleptic swoon When you have a little problem you don’t want folks to find Or perhaps you’ve been insulted and revenge is on your mind Just go down to the basement in the back behind the wine Consider some home masonry to cover up your crime Do you chop it up... One morning in cool blood I stopped the drumbeat of a heart And never have I slept so very well You know I am not mad Because my senses are acute I can hear things in heaven earth and hell Were you ever taken over by that fiend intemperance Were you ever so influenced by that gin-nurtured malevolence To offer your own wife a taste of personal violence Till you know you have destroyed all hope of God's mercy or innocence Don't you hate it when a sick man's in your mesmerizing gaze And though he passes in the night, you got him twitching for many days And then he gives you a nasty fright when he croaks "let me die please" Once you release him from his state he turns to goo like marmalade Do you chop it up...
I've got my dreams and you've got yours You dream of insults that turn into wars You dream of building walls with no doors What if all you see or seem is but a dream within a dream What if all you see or seem is but a dream within a dream The line between life and death Is vague and shadowy Shadowy at best You better keep your eyes open wide they could bury you bury you alive What if all you see or seem is but a dream within a dream What if all you see or seem is but a dream within a dream With a tight clasp We try to make it last Try to make it last No one can be saved From the pitiless, pitiless wave No one will be saved from a pitiless, pitiless wave As I say goodnight Kiss my lips, remember this sight And know that all I've seen has been a beautiful beautiful beautiful dream within a dream


released January 2, 2013




The Bushwick Book Club Brooklyn, New York

We started in January 2009 playing songs written in response to Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions. We haven't stopped since. We've written & performed songs inspired by everything from "On The Origin of Species" to Dr. Seuss to Raymond Carver. There are BBCs popping up nationwide now. Bushwick Book Club Seattle started in 2010 & is run by Geoff Larson. Our nerdy dare-devilry knows no bounds. ... more


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