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The Man Who Fell In Love With The Man Who Fell In Love With The Moon (2015)

by Luis Mojica

Essex Street 02:34
I saved myself again from riding in the back of the car with them, I saved myself again from riding in the back of the car with men. They'll spit you out and spin, Release you to the East and call the corners in. They'll spit you out and spin, Release you to the South where you may taste their skin. They'll spit you out and spin, Release you to the West where you may sink or swim. They'll spit you out and spin, But once you're going North you best never get lost again!
Drank you then pissed you out cheap, Drink me don't spill me I'm weak, What do you know about me? Nothing! What can I say about you? It's something in the way that your body moved. I'll spit you out and then spin, You may grieve me just don't let me win, I'll knock on your door let me in, Until the sound of the termites begins, They sing "Your door frame is falling down!" Oh, what a wicked web we're in, When all of the boys won't turn men, And women are thin glass frozen, So one breaks, then one takes, then one grins, And here I am! Ancient heart, Ancient lamp, Filled with gas, Made to crack, Then march on in the shape, Of a belt on the waist of a man. Oh what a waste of a man! If you can't shoot that Taurus down please, Then take me out of these clothes, Release me from this Satanic robe, My throne of bones has long been cold. Because I know where the flowers grow, And I can't find yours, I once loved white daffodils, But they can't grow in snow. So I'm going home, Leave me alone, I'm going back to the city where I belong! And I'll roam free, You may not follow me, Here's a nickel to play one last song.
Indians 02:39
One - one hundred, Two - one hundred, Three - one hundred, Four- one hundred! Take my hand, I'll be your daddy, Wait, you're just my son-in-law! Take my hand, I need a daddy! What do you know about this game at all? Those criminals, Just watch your hair, Those criminals, They'll take your hair!
Cowboys 01:47
Take it or leave it! Keep it don't need it! Take it or leave it! But don't dare trust the cowboy when he claims he's born a man, My boy you are mistaken - it's your phantom skeleton! He'll steal you with his sex then confess that you are his son, You can't trust every blind man when he tells you you're handsome. So take it or leave it.
Singing Willow, Sing to Sparrow, Where are the tears for which you were named? You and I, sweet boy, were never born for fame. Because we like ugly people. Sing Willow, Sing Sparrow, You'll fly free, Follow me, Protect me.
Headlines 03:51
I watched the headlines fly into the sky, Who knows what they do with the rain in Manhattan, We know what they do with the rain in Brooklyn. I never cared for my skin type, I used to hate that I was white, But they only love you when you're alive in Brooklyn, They only love you when you have died in Manhattan. So I don't want to be a legend. Because in 1969, Beneath our army clothes, I won't tell if you don't ask, Just watch the butterflies grow, Because normal is a machine bird, That flies into the wall, They can keep a man on the moon, But that can't keep her falling. The poppies refuse to save her, And the long-necked pappi's can only savor her, She'll cry and she'll weep and she'll die in her sleep, Still all you want is her picture, To feed your family with rumors, To cut her veins deep and then make her bleed, So the ballroom can be swept with feet, And the world can dance.
Poster Boy 03:04
He sits right down with his white brow frown, He's all alone with his sex, With a headlight out and a long thick snout, Who will play with his sex? Besides the grim reaper! His thighs are getting weaker, He can't find his sneakers, He blames it on the reaper, But sir: they're still on your feet! So he decides to go and live, Where no sneakers exist, Just puzzles and fabric plants, Where he's bathed and fed, And no matter what he has said, No one really gives a damn. Except for the grim reaper, They all wait for their savior there, And you best make sure they've done their hair. It smells like sun burnt men, Still they sing, Mr. Reaper, this I pray, we dance upon my wedding day. Dream! They line up for sweet treats, But we only drink tea, And we eat all our apple seeds, We're the criminal boys smuggling seeds. But the white vial femme, With her diabetic smile, Sings, Dance! They all dance for the reaper, He says "You're all washed up Hollywood, but still looking good!", They smell like polished nails, Someone light a cigarette so I can regain consciousness! And focus on her face.
Puppet Love 01:42
I fell in love on the street, You can say he knows me, His skin was the color of a pupil not an iris. I fell in love on the street.
He fell in love with that boy next door, What will he tell all his friends? She's his husband at home until she gets on her throne, At 42nd street. He is a boy of love, His mother's a woman of God, She says "He will consume you then death will come soon!", Still, he's blinded by his man's moon. Her manufactured womb. And he says "Death never tasted so good, Death won't you come back home, Death never tasted so good, Death is my handsome man". They met behind a wall, The glory hole turned holy burial, It's an absolute truth confession booth, It's a sacred kind of stranger sex. When Moon Man touches mundane man, Truth explodes like smoke from sage, He can grow his own womb, He can choose heel or boot, Because the medium is the disease. They will renovate his body, They will rip out his malformed womb, But his mind is a lawless creature, That no man or God can ever groom. So he held his brain, And they stood there staring, Like there's nothing going to change here, There's just no rhyme or reason, If you hold your brain you'll find the same truth to believe in, There is no point in nothing that ain't love, No point in grieving. There is no money, Where there's a brain, honey, There's nothing at all but a little bit of brain honey, Dripping on the floor making him stand stuck still in that cafe, He's on that stage forever, And his body's growing trendy. The crowd cannot be tortured by his words or his performance, The street has no distinction between love or performance, Still every ally way is filled with songs from the grieving, bored stiff housewives for all the dead grandchildren. Singing: "I saw him with the boy next door".
Shed 04:04
The Ingin boy found blood in his soul when he discovered his dead mother's picture, The evidence was plain as the desert that cradled his body from his man's fingers, Desolation cubical calling me, calling greed, I don't know what I believe in, This novel's pages are yearning and turning me onto the hard fact that I must stop grieving for my sad, sad self. The old man tanned but white as the Moon were his knuckles when his Blue Boy made him feel hollow, The Moon man ran into the saloon and howled over distorted tunes from the piano, A God of men he pulled his sex in so as not to spill over while his blue boy followed, It wasn't until they'd fallen in love that the stars told the boy that the Moon was a father of men. He just wept, Blood in his soul, Where was a Blue Boy to go in 19th century Idaho? He'll hide inside the shed, Where he paints his fat lips red, Then lures the men into bed, And swallows until they're dead, He fell in love with that cowboy, But he's that cowboy's son, And daddy paints illegal portraits, Of baby boy all undone. Because they were free to be in love with the Moon, They would howl for hours and hours as she shone, They danced naked then fell into each other's arms, He would say "kiss me, daddy - I mean, kiss me cowboy". Kiss me cowboy, Kiss me daddy! They were free.
Exposed 01:51
They saw his paintings, Of naked men, Lined up. Painted like squid, Exposing themselves. Whatcha doing with these paintings boy? Whatcha doing in that dress? This ain't Samoa it's America! There are no Moon Men left. They stole his paintings! They took his father's life, Still you can find him masturbating, Bathed in the full Moon's white light.
There's got to be a way out of here, Because Horus is making breakfast, And I'm in no mood for lettuce!


"The Man Who Fell In Love With The Man Who Fell In Love With The Moon" is a story about a pansexual boy who meets an insane group of characters while searching for his male identity.

This album was written in the Summer of 2009 in Brooklyn, NY after I read the book "The Man Who Fell In Love With The Moon". I wrote it and composed it in an old warehouse, where I took up residence, during the hottest Summer in Bushwick.

The demo came to me, suddenly, and pretty much begged to be released and re-recorded - and so I obeyed! It was recorded live on my upright piano in my living room in Woodstock, NY in late February 2015 and was released on the Spring Equinox.


released March 20, 2015

Vocals, lyrics, compositions, and piano by Luis Mojica.
Additional vocals, whistling, and invocations by Aemen Bell.
Microphones and recording set up by Fredo Viola.


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Luis Mojica Woodstock, New York

"From chamber pop to indie to a quasi-baroque style all bundled within the mind of a genius"

- Jammerzine

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