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Corona Park EP

by Rebecca Karpen

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1.
Tiger One 02:20
The San Fran Zoo Let its tiger escape. I feel it’s coming back again. I feel its ghost pacing the streets, Its whiskers brush against my face, I can feel how warm it breathes. They’re throwing rocks at her breastplate, And at her chest, And acting like that makes Us safe, Like I should be impressed. How many grad students Does it take to cure the plague? God knows Mike Pence Was just great at curing AIDS. The market crash has already Bankrupted my friends, With a whimper, Not a bang: Isn’t that the way The world ends? Don’t go to Florida, I’m begging you to stay. I know it might be selfish But I don’t know how long it’ll be 'Til I can see your face. Make decisions carefully, Kiss me before you go. I might not see my friends again, My mom won’t see me graduate, Smile for the photograph When they’ll mail My diploma home. How many absentee ballots Can we afford to print And count in merely a few days? They’ve closed off Italy And might shut down The MTA. We cannot underestimate The losses to which we’ll all soon bow our heads, With a whimper, Not a bang: Isn’t that the way The world ends? Hello to Rosie, Queen of Corona. Hello to Rosie, Queen of Corona. Hello to Rosie, Queen of Corona. Hello to Rosie, Queen of Corona.
2.
I’ll touch the elevator buttons With the crooks of my fingers. I’ll pray to anything To see your face, Though I’m hesitant to linger. Can we just stay inside Content to lie Let the world think we Malingered? Get fucked up and zoom Scott Stringer? I’ll kiss your lips Through masks of paint And caress you with mitts of rubber. I’ll hold you in a hazmat grasp And make offerings to an air filter. Your heart beats fast against my chest Or that might just be The friction Of plastic on my shoulder Touching plastic on your shoulders, This is sex. I’ll bring you to restaurants We will bring our food from home We’ll eat cans of beans And have high self-esteem From dining where we could never afford We’ll sit in Madison Square Garden And share a phone To watch our favorite singers While they’re ailing in a bunker And the ushers try to shoo us out Because New York will soon be An exclusion zone I’ll kiss your lips Through masks of paint And caress you with mitts of rubber. I’ll hold you in a hazmat grasp And make offerings to an air filter. Your heart beats fast against my chest Or that might just be The friction Of plastic on my shoulder Touching plastic on your shoulders, This is sex. I want my care for you to never be intensive I want any measures I take for you to be preventive I would gladly kiss you now But my poor health is an incentive To let you go And quarantine my poor heart at home I’ll kiss your lips Through masks of paint And caress you with mitts of rubber. I’ll hold you in a hazmat grasp And make offerings to an air filter. Your heart beats fast against my chest Or that might just be The friction Of plastic on my shoulder Touching plastic on your shoulders, Of plastic on my shoulder Touching plastic on your shoulders, Of plastic on my shoulder Touching plastic on your shoulders, This is sex. This is sex.
3.
I feel like a ghost In the Wild West, Cobwebs littering my prom dress. No one I love is dying And it could be much worse. Nonetheless, Every goddamn subway car Might as well be a hearse. I would pray But they’ve closed the synagogues. What would I say at this point, After all I’ve forgot. I’d love to talk But wish it didn’t have to be through the telephone. I don’t mean to be selfish But I’m scared to be alone. It’s not the end of the world, But it’s the end of mine. It’s not the end of the world, But it’s the end of simple times. It’s not the end of the world, But I’ll live a different life now, God knows that’s changing every day, I can’t begin to anticipate how. I would pray But they’ve closed the synagogues. What would I say at this point, After all I’ve forgot. I’d love to talk But wish it didn’t have to be through the telephone. I don’t mean to be selfish But I’m scared to be alone. What’s the batting average in Corona? I would guess it’s pretty good: 4,600 down And the crowd screams loud And echoes louder than I wish it would. I would pray But they’ve closed the synagogues. What would I say at this point, After all I’ve forgot. I’d love to talk But wish it didn’t have to be through the telephone. I don’t mean to be selfish But I’m scared. I don't mean to be selfish But I'm scared to be alone. I feel like a ghost In the Wild West, I hope salvation will prevail In a little more than a month and a half. I’m usually a realist But fuck that.
4.
Corona Park 07:13
We played with kinetic sand As we were hiding from the snow. You stayed right by my side 'Til my mom drove me home. It doesn’t feel Like it was more than 6 years ago. I sat back with my head high, My smile far too wide, And I don’t think I’d ever loved anyone As much as I loved you, In the gift shop, When you said that I was cool. We’re talking again now. I’m happy we’re friends But Corona Park Was one of the best days of my life And I’ll believe that until The end. I was singing “Fearless” As I skipped in my blue dress Along the stained glass windows Of the great hall that was always closed. My dad sang his apologies And I cried at the first time he had ever said, “I’m sorry.” Justin said I looked like a fairytale And I took all the plastic fish. I didn’t get to eat my cake But I think that was fine. We lost about an hour When we thought we’d misplaced Dylan Klein. My sister and I were on the Jumbotron, Thousands of people Saw our faces on the screen. My mother laughed And I guess I did too, They blasted Natasha Bedingfield And she got booed. I guess they’d never had a pocket Full of sunshine in their lives. My mother streaked to the sky, Rode a capsule in '65 And lay under the Tent of Tomorrow In the center of the center of the world. She saw flying cars And underwater fathers, She held her mother’s hand As they trudged through the grasses That arose from the ashes of a wasteland. And Corona Park might’ve been the best day of her life. Corona Park waved me home, The first outstretched hands After Berlin flown. Corona park held hands I know, I kiss the ground, A holy home. We played with kinetic sand As we were hiding from the snow. You stayed right by my side 'Til my mom drove me home. It doesn’t feel Like it was more than 6 years ago. I sat back with my head high, My smile far too wide, And I don’t think I’d ever loved anyone As much as I loved you, In the gift shop, When you said that I was cool. We’re talking again now. I’m happy we’re friends But Corona Park Was one of the best days of my life And I’ll believe that until The end.

about

I originally had a heartfelt letter attached to this. I looked at it today, over a year after I wrote these songs, and I cringed (03/23/21). These songs are a bit outdated; Mike Pence is no longer the VP (mercifully), and the MTA didn't close down. Yet, the world is darker than it was before 2020 and although there is a lot of hope radiating throughout this new year, there is also fear, disillusionment, and uncertainty about what the "new normal," when we finally reach it, will be. I had a pre-taped graduation, Covid Savior Governor Cuomo will soon be NoMo, and I have watched myself and everyone else in my life shatter. On the first track of this EP, "Tiger One," composed after learning I might've contracted Covid from a friend and understandably freaking out, I wrote "we cannot underestimate the losses to which we'll all soon bow our heads." There is nothing I wouldn't give for that prediction to have been incorrect.

I could talk about everything I've learned, or what the country's learned, or what those close to me have learned. I could speak about the anger this pandemic brought out in me given all that it has exposed about who we are as people, but I'm tired. I'm going to guess you are too. I think that means I should keep this brief.

I wrote these songs because I was scared, because I was angry, because I was in mourning and knew that life as I knew it was collapsing quickly and chaotically around me. I wrote these songs because I was in recovery from a traumatic health crisis and had just started seriously making progress before this pandemic threw every possible obstacle in my way and devastated me. I wrote these songs to make myself laugh because sometimes that's the only thing you can do when you're afraid: laugh. I wrote these songs and now I give them to you. I hope they can give you some comfort or entertainment. Even if they don't, thanks for sharing your time with me and congrats on making it through this disaster. You deserve it. It hasn't been easy.

Finally, all streaming proceeds and sales from other music platforms for the first three tracks will go to the NAACPLDF. On this website, all the proceeds from this EP and any of the individual tracks that encompass it, after Bandcamp takes its cut, will be donated to the Loveland Foundation, which aims to provide Black women and girls financial resources to receive therapy and additional support for mental health. For more information, refer to their website: thelovelandfoundation.org

Thank you for everything. I love you.

Sincerely,

Rebecca

8/12/22 EDIT:

Due to the logistical hurdles of Bandcamp taking a percentage of earnings from music on this site, we have made the decision to no longer donate proceedings from the purchase of this album on Bandcamp going forward. All prior sales have already been sent to the Loveland Foundation and I am so proud of what we have been able to contribute. I would strongly recommend those wishing to donate to a terrific cause do so through direct donations on their website to avoid any of those donations being swallowed up through a hosting server. 75% of streaming proceeds of this album will continue to go to the NAACPLDF in perpetuity. Feel free to download this for whatever you want, even if that price is free.

credits

released March 30, 2021

Lyrics by Rebecca Karpen
Music by Rebecca Karpen and Natty Korb
Vocals by Rebecca Karpen
Guitar by Rebecca Karpen
Banjo by Dan Korb
Recorded by Rebecca Karpen
Produced by Rebecca Karpen and Natty Korb
Mixed and mastered by Natty Korb
Album art by Lemon @___lemonadend__
©Rebecca Karpen United 2021 Bitch

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Rebecca Karpen New York, New York

I play baritone ukulele and cry a lot.
Go figure.

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