Beat Me In The Face With My Banjo 

(aka An Ode To Charlie Parr)

teach me o great

banjo masters.

swing by the nearest dive
pick up charlie parr
tell him his suspenders
are extra perfect.

listen to him clear his throat

clear the air

clear your questions

clear up one row and down the next.

just so we don't have to go home.

scruggs roll on down with me 

to the wide open plains of my home.

give the whitetail a show 

pick them a fantasy from those five strings of fancy.

let it wail on through the night

back to the morning

over my shoulder

into the alfalfa flower.

jam it out hard in the back meadow

on an old wooden stool

surrounded by frogs and crickets and a breakfast of miles. 

the dew on your shoulders and knees

and in the chorus.

your beaten hat and beard.

eyes tired

more alive than most.

we need a violin

and some backup vocals.

cause I'm crying and laughing

hopping like mad. 

fixin' a jig on the cornerstone

of your blemished wonder.

I'm learning

to learn.

to keep the switch on 

to accept myself.

and the strange circumstances in 

the sounds behind me.

I'm learning to play.

so let me jam with you.

don't slow down.

you can wait for me

when I get good.

for now just know that I will catch up

without finding my way back to who 

I was.

cause I am who I am

and my fingers keep on bleeding.

chord change me

to the bone charlie.

make them cry or scream 

or jump without the pull

back to earth

take away their gravity.

we're off!

floating away 

splicing this music with this life.

learning to be together

and especially apart.

learning to believe:

there is a banjo master in us all.