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by The Bushwick Book Club

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This Is Not A Christmas Song 'Tis the season To wish for yours As you yearn for the other shore Hold your breath Try not to drown As this whole whirlpool pulls you down Tell us what you wanted What you cannot have In one little message You'll be so glad So few have so much So few have so much You'll remember just When to look and not to touch We pulled down the stars In this gilded age And built for you a concrete cage Locked in your space With the exits blocked When the fire came you weren't even shocked We've got a surprise We've brought him to life Right before your very eyes So few have so much So few have so much The world you see above Is not the one you're dreaming of This Is not a Christmas song And the story that you know is a Santa - con So few have so much So few have so much There's nowhere to run When you're the one they're preying on So few have so much So few have so much The world you see above Is not the one your dreaming of
Please Mr. Santa On the first Christmas night, two thousand years ago Three wise men in robes of crimson silk Rode silently from the east to the west Each carried on his saddle-bow a finely wrought casket Please, Mr. Santa, will you send me a glass eye? Mine is broke and I can’t see the sky Reach into your sack and pull out the life I Always wanted We all were the victims of old St. Toogood Who talked so loud he broke all the dishes Saved sailors from famine, and children from pirates Society ladies from Boy Scouts with rifles The gold-rimmed spectacled professors And crooked solicitors down in the rathskeller A poor boy gets nothing but dunder and blixem A German opera sung in Italian The pulp of five thousand letters Went into the bust we petition for presents Post office idol or jolly old elf or A sculpture in honor of commerce and sentiment If trouble breaks out it will come from the poor Through the plate-glass windows where the rich enjoy All their baubles and sweets from extravagant shops It makes a hell of longing for all the have-nots
“Dear Santa” By Ray Brown and Bob Gallagher Santa, I know it’s been a long time But there’s something I really really need 250,000 euro, a little cottage on the north side of Dublin and a D4 visa And a bunch of MDMA Last night I started crying Watching Glen Hansard on Youtube Singing Auld Triangle in iveagh gardens This shit has got to end I’ve been out with Odin On the wild hunt Flying thru the night sky Making the dogs howl Making the grown men cry So I know that you’re a fraud I don’t want your stolen art and phony Boy Scouts and Coney Island bullfights Just get me to Dublin tonight Dear Santa Please please please Get me out of Dublin And I won’t call the cops on you Oh, I know that you’re running a con “Ireland is tiny and miserable”- Me when I’m there “I come from the Emerald Isle Land of saints and scholars My father is a pint My blood is Kerry Gold” - Me when I’m here All I need is an 0 visa Maybe Bird Coler could help you get that for me If not, you’re going to jail But I’m not going back to Dublin, I’m going to Italy Harmony is a magical / beautiful thing But I don’t think it will Ever be for me
“I Wanna Believe” by Seth Rothschild “I wanna believe If I’m deceived If the giver is a grifter Then it’s the gift and not the gifter” Or “I was born the same day as Jesus Did I happen to mention? Ever since I’ve been looking for a way To get more attention (Than Jesus)”
“Dear Santa - Big Hug to Gluck” By Susan Hwang All the things he wanted, thought he needed and didn’t have like the extra L in Duval. And the secret service he was a member of in his mind didn’t fool anyone at all. An imaginary Esquire. The imaginary good he was doing to get him the reality of cash that could buy the things to convince the part of himself that didn’t believe that he was enough. How many extra l’s does it take How many degrees from Columbia faked how many famous hands do you have to shake? Santa, can you please give a big hug to Gluck and let him know that he’s enough. Sometimes what it takes is when everything’s at stake 15 years of a life you’ve made is lost and you’re broke Your reputation is toast, but Santa was listening close when he sent you that woman who still laughs at your jokes. He sent you a Bird (Bird S. Coler) who set you free from what you thought you needed to be to be loved. To be loved. Sometimes that bird from Santa is a Public Welfare Commissioner hell bent on bringing you down. Xmas magic works in mysterious ways. And then get to go off to Miami and live happily ever after with Gertrude who loves you and always will.
“Mister Fly by Night” by Teresa Toro I closed my eyes I made a wish Winter surprise Unexpected bliss Our little secret Yours and mine to keep You pay your visits While my neighbors sleep Mister Fly by Night You’re the man of my dreams What others question I just gotta believe If I’m wrong then I don’t want to be right Don’t let me down Mister Fly by Night Just once a year I can call you mine But while you’re here It's magic making time Carry me away Let’s fly around the moon Let our singular pursuit Be one of bold adventure Snowflakes and champagne Spark the stars on our commute But dawn is coming soon And then we must surrender Mister Fly by Night You’re the man of my dreams What others question I just gotta believe If I’m wrong then I don’t want to be right Don’t let me down Mister Fly By Night


All songs recorded live at Barbès in Park Slope, Brooklyn for our show of new music and conceptual art for Alex Palmer's SANTA CLAUS MAN.


released December 31, 2019

All songs recorded live and mixed and mastered by Lusterlit. Album art by Scott MX Turner


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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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