I once met a Wiccan witch on a bus
She said she liked the way I sang my hymns about Jesus
In the back with my face on the glass
and a selfish present in a plastic bag
I told her I've been a wicked child
I have sins that I've left simmering and unreconciled
She took my hand and her ginger face lit
and the tire-fire flares as we drive past it
She said:
"I cast a spell and my boyfriend came clean.
I weave these winds like some spiderweb-ceiling.
And I can break you.
I can root around the goo you ooze.
And I can break you.
I can, but I won't."
So I just quit my band like I'd lost 20 pounds
Ms. Davis drove me out to see some psychic out of town
My face wore a look of alarm
With a tape-recorder in my trembling arms
She told me more about me than even I know
I was in a pool of my own tears when it came to a close
She took my hand and her ginger face lit
As my memory transformed it
She said:
"I cast a spell, and my clients come clean.
I weave these winds like some spiderweb-ceiling.
And I can break you.
I can root around the goo you ooze.
And I can break you.
I already have."
She looked me dead in my filmy face, and she said:
"Anthony, you've got grace living inside of you.
And if you pick up every dream you've ever dropped,
it walks protectively behind you.
You're built from love, but you've never learned to love yourself,
so right now, you can't fully love anyone.
But that'll change. My child, I swear it will change."
See, I've been building this place of worship
for so many years, you'd think it'd be complete now
But there's this gaping hole that's staring
it leaves just enough room for every stone to fall down
And every compliment I get soaks in the rocks
before I actually believe it
I'm suspicious of my best friends; it's stupid, I know
And her stare stings in my eyes,
just like the crusties Jennie picked out in the morning
And I realize I miss her so bad,
just like the old Gerry's performing
I miss digital camera sound-recorder-function albums
Committed by a campfire
I've missed Lui's basement
I miss practice, what did we fight about anyway?
I miss Oscar's list of schemes,
and I miss Shane and the way that he ate paper
I miss John and his 2 brothers and our songs
and how we'd table them for later
I miss loving Lauren Venlos
in a way that no one ought to when they're that young
And screwing it up
I miss Albert Minzer
I'll never forget you, ever
Because, sometimes at night, your face is all I can see
I've known witches in my life
They've taken magic and strewn it on my days like garnish
I've spent so many years entrenched in crippling doubt
And thanks to them, it all can vanish
And thanks to me! And thanks to me!
Because I'm beautiful enough
to stomp these nightmares out and finally start behaving
And now I'm shaving
Let's hope the hair comes in slow