Song for Myla Goldberg

Myla Goldberg
Sets a steady hand upon her brow
Myla Goldberg
Hangs a crooked foor all upside downIt comes around, it comes around
It comes around, it comes around
It comes around, it comes around
It comes around, it comes aroundPretty hands do pretty things
When pretty times arise
Seraphim in seaweed swim
Where stick-limbed Myla liesIt comes around, it comes around
It comes around, it comes around
It comes around, it comes around
It comes around, it comes aroundStill now you're waiting to grow
Inside you're old
Sew wings to your pigeon toes
Put paper to pen and spell out ElizaWe begin with sticky shins
Make sticky then our shoes
Shoes beget to clothes
And hat 'til sticky's sticking tooFiniculi, finicula, finiculi, finicula
Finiculi, finicula, finiculi, finiculaListen in as shin-kicked Jim
Relates his story sad
'Bout a boy who kicked
Until his shins were all but rubber bandsBut now I know New York, I need New York
I know I need unique New York
I know New York, I need New York
I know I need unique New YorkStill now you're waiting to grow
Inside you're old
Sew wings to your pigeon toes
Put paper to pen and spell out ElizaEliza, Eliza
It comes around, it comes around
It comes around