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The Michael J. Epstein Memorial Library Somerville, Massachusetts

The Michael J. Epstein Memorial Library is a librarian-attired, downtempo, indie, ensemble-pop act featuring intricately constructed, tongue-in-cheek tortuous songs with an emphasis on narrative.

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Track Name: Paradise by the Primary Guidance, Navigation, And Control System Light (Apollo 11 Moon Landing 50th Anniversary Lament)
I wake up when the Earth comes up with great predictability.
I head out for my evening swim in the sea of tranquility.
Every day’s same routine, I’m my only company.
Another waning crescent Earth, soon, there will be nothing left to see.


I look up to the starry sky, it really makes me want to cry
50 years ago you said goodbye, sweetie.
I believe, you’re still coming back for me.

I wake up when the lights come up and the people come to look at me.
I sit in place and pose with kids, in the space museum’s gallery.
Every day’s the same routine, ambassador to humanity.
Staring at your replica, it’s the only thing that I can see.

Sometimes on a cloudless night, through the window I can shine my light.
Remember when we took that epic flight, baby?
I believe, you’re still coming back for me

Footsteps leading to the landing site where we shared our last embrace
Can you imagine my surprise when you blasted off into space?!?!?
Of course, I know I should feel proud that we won the lunar race.
After 50 years of passing time, I still remember every line on your face.

Sometimes I see a beam of light, imagine that you’re still all right.
I wonder if you know my plight, honey.
I believe, you’re still coming back for me.

I’m not so sure you’d still love me, if you saw the scars.
I’m not quite what I used to be, in fact I’m rather charred.
I made it back from outer space, away from all the stars.
It was quite the fall from grace, re-entry was brutally hard

I dream we’ll get another flight.
I wish I may, I wish I might…
...have the wish I wish tonight, baby.
I believe, you’re still coming back for me.
Track Name: I'm the one who's dead
Got your picture on the front page
Two TV films at 9 o’clock
While someone’s buried body’s trapped in concrete around the block

The deep set eyes of Tony Curtis
Sympathetic and complex
voice of their neighbors, of their teachers not me I’m the one who’s dead

countless photographs and books
vats of pigment, tons of wax
HV6245, bound in leather, embossed in brass

How were you led astray?
in Rolling Stone, an 8-page spread
Let’s study all your methods, fuck you, I’m the one who’s dead
fuck you, fuck you, I’m the one who’s dead

You ask what makes a person evil
should ask what makes a person good
We’ve never learned a goddamned lesson like you always said we would

10,000 hours in a courtroom.
expert witness, doctors, friends
Misspell my name twice in the transcript. That’s fine. I’m already dead.
That’s fine. That’s fine. I’m already dead.

We still don’t know how to spot them
Your study just makes more instead
No one will ever learn a thing from me because I’m the one who’s dead
Print their name a million times, that’s fine I’m already dead
Their photographs burned in your mind but I’m the one who’s dead
that’s fine, that’s fine - but I’m the one who’s dead
that’s fine, that’s fine - but I’m the one who’s dead
that’s fine, that’s fine - but I’m the one who’s dead