The Solvent in the Workshop (Stripper)

Lyrics

[Intro]

In the lapidary's workshop, at 7:30 AM, twelve degrees Celsius.
Amber bottles on the shelf, corked tight.
I label them one by one.

[Verse 1]
Methylene chloride, acetone blend.
John Styth Pemberton experimented in 1886, age fifty-five.
His mixtures for medicine, ours for stone.
The stripper waits in glass, sharp tang coating the air.
I pull on the rubber gloves, patched at the fingertips.
No sparks, the sign says, handwritten in black ink.

[Chorus]
Stripper in the bottle, peels away the layers.
Not what you think, Mrs. Patterson.
Just solvent, acrid and clear.
Labels in my handwriting: 'Paint Stripper - Handle with Care.'
Early twentieth century, they added lavender scent.
To mask the bite, but it fooled no one.

[Verse 2]
Workbench scarred, tin can of rags soaked through.
The smell stings, like a promise of clean slate.
I align the bottles: one for varnish, one for old enamel.
From the National Paint Catalog, 1923.
Safety pamphlets from 1956 warn of fumes.
I open the window, let the coastal draft in.

[Bridge]

Unrecorded, the apprentices who breathed this daily.
Chronic haze in their lungs, gaps in the logs.
Family hands organizing shelves, unnamed.
But here, I label precisely: batch number 47, expiry June 2025.

[Verse 3]
Wheelbarrow outside, rusted, for hauling the heavy ones.
Chipped mug of tea, cold now, forgotten.
The stripper dissolves, reveals the grain beneath.
Innocent tool, this liquid eraser.
Pemberton's ghost nods from Georgia archives.

[Chorus]
Stripper in the bottle, peels away the layers.
Not what you think, Mrs. Patterson.
Just solvent, acrid and clear.
Labels in my handwriting: 'Paint Stripper - Handle with Care.'
Early twentieth century, they added lavender scent.
To mask the bite, but it fooled no one.

[Outro]

Workshop quiet again, bottles aligned.
Task done, gloves off.
The air clears slowly.