As my fathers wrote, as my mothers spoke, to be so blessed as to know your name. Not far from here, where Rashi taught, to life my voice in open thought. Beside the church where we were struck to prove some point on Christmas Eve, to be here still with broken heart and joyous word. To have this work, to fill this line, to be so blessed for my mother's sake, for my father's wine.
"I got out my guitar and I showed him out to play. I showed him how to sing these songs a little out of key. And the devil sang with me, and the devil sang with me, on my shoulder like a friend that never leaves."