To Burn The Witch by Erin Anastasia Lyrics
"To Burn the Witch"
Teenagers scare the living shit out of me
Especially, when a whole car full of them
shouted at me and my friends to: “Go to church!”
Something I should have shrugged off as a meaningless remark,
but it was difficult to shrug in my leather jacket.
And as me and my friends stood with our backs against the concrete wall
of a loud, music-filled bar,
in our black nail-polish and black eyeshadow and black everything.
I couldn’t help but think
that maybe they had rubber bullets
but the people who taught them how to shoot had lead ones,
or, considering their skewed view of us, maybe silver ones,
and that this seemingly small insult
was probably not confined to the mouths of a few teenagers
but belonged to something larger,
like a big building
where they don’t play music like this.
Now I’m not religious,
but this devil music, I promise, had nothing to do with it,
more so the contradiction that
Emerges from preaching love in one breath,
and passing judgement in the next
love thy neighbor, right?
but call the cops of thy neighbor
who blasts their speakers too loud at night.
They shouted at us to go to church,
Words that felt less like an invitation and more like a curse
Would me or my friends
while dressed in this darkness
really be welcome in their house of worship?
or would there be whispers?
would there be talk of witchcraft in our hands?
Would a wooden post slowly be raised into place
would a match be lit
would we be burned at the stake?
A entire congregation failing to realize
That to burn the witch
is to admit that magic exists,
And there is magic here.
When bodies get passed over heads
with an unexplainable lightness
When the boiling cauldron of a crowd stirs
And a heated mist swirls overtop
When an honest chorus is chanted
And a fourteen-year-old sweats out the demons
That have possessed his mind for days
Our magic has healing powers
without the collection plate
Our magic is knowing that when you fall,
There are forces not just picking you up,
but throwing you back
into a place that isn’t afraid of anger, or sadness, or darkness,
because these things exist
and we will not apologize for this for acknowledging this.
They shouted at us to go to church
But maybe we were already there
And to them I’ll only say this
You are welcome, to join us in prayer.
Teenagers scare the living shit out of me
Especially, when a whole car full of them
shouted at me and my friends to: “Go to church!”
Something I should have shrugged off as a meaningless remark,
but it was difficult to shrug in my leather jacket.
And as me and my friends stood with our backs against the concrete wall
of a loud, music-filled bar,
in our black nail-polish and black eyeshadow and black everything.
I couldn’t help but think
that maybe they had rubber bullets
but the people who taught them how to shoot had lead ones,
or, considering their skewed view of us, maybe silver ones,
and that this seemingly small insult
was probably not confined to the mouths of a few teenagers
but belonged to something larger,
like a big building
where they don’t play music like this.
Now I’m not religious,
but this devil music, I promise, had nothing to do with it,
more so the contradiction that
Emerges from preaching love in one breath,
and passing judgement in the next
love thy neighbor, right?
but call the cops of thy neighbor
who blasts their speakers too loud at night.
They shouted at us to go to church,
Words that felt less like an invitation and more like a curse
Would me or my friends
while dressed in this darkness
really be welcome in their house of worship?
or would there be whispers?
would there be talk of witchcraft in our hands?
Would a wooden post slowly be raised into place
would a match be lit
would we be burned at the stake?
A entire congregation failing to realize
That to burn the witch
is to admit that magic exists,
And there is magic here.
When bodies get passed over heads
with an unexplainable lightness
When the boiling cauldron of a crowd stirs
And a heated mist swirls overtop
When an honest chorus is chanted
And a fourteen-year-old sweats out the demons
That have possessed his mind for days
Our magic has healing powers
without the collection plate
Our magic is knowing that when you fall,
There are forces not just picking you up,
but throwing you back
into a place that isn’t afraid of anger, or sadness, or darkness,
because these things exist
and we will not apologize for this for acknowledging this.
They shouted at us to go to church
But maybe we were already there
And to them I’ll only say this
You are welcome, to join us in prayer.