Monday, May 18, 2015

"This World Will Remember Me" from "Bonnie and Clyde"

The men in this town
Live and die and are forgotten
And it doesn't seem to scare 'em
I can't wait to get away

Away from the drought
And the homeless and the hungry
Where they talk about foreclosures
Every hot and dusty day

I don't intend to waste
My life 'round here
I got it all mapped out
If I can pull just three jobs a year
I'll be rich, I'll have wealth and fame
Everyone will know my name

Pull three jobs? What does that mean?
What do you think it means?

Just like Billy the Kid
And Mister Capone
Every kid will idolize Clyde Barrow
One thing, young lady, I guarantee
Is that this world will remember me
Yes, this world will remember me

Don't you think it's time
That you lost that egg-stained apron
And wore somethin' made of satin
From a fine Manhattan store?

Yes, I can see you
In a car with your own driver
You are headed to your penthouse
That will overlook the shore

Your face should be up on that silver screen
You got that It Girl look

I can't believe that you see that in me
I always knew I'd be a star
How intelligent you are

We are wasted 'round here
We're too good for this place
We weren't born to live and die in Texas

This is my plan, there's no plan B
And this world will remember me
You and this world will remember me

Monday, April 27, 2015

"Home" from "Beauty and the Beast"

Yes, I made the choice
For Papa, I will stay
But I don't deserve to lose my freedom in this way
You monster
If you think that what you've done is right, well then
You're a fool
Think again

Is this home?
Is this where I should learn to be happy?
Never dreamed
That a home could be dark and cold
I was told
Every day in my childhood
Even when we grow old
Home will be where the heart is
Never were words so true
My heart's far, far away
Home is, too

Is this home?
Is this what I must learn to believe in?
Try to find
Something good in this tragic place
Just in case
I should stay here forever
Held in this empty space
Oh, but that won't be easy
I know the reason why
My heart's far, far away
Home's a lie

What I'd give to return
To the life that I knew lately
But I know that I can't
Solve my problems going back

Is this home?
Am I here for a day or forever?
Shut away
From the world until who knows when
Oh, but then
As my life has been altered once
It can change again
Build higher walls around me
Change every lock and key
Nothing lasts
Nothing holds
All of me
My heart's far, far away
Home and free

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

"Light My Candle" from "Rent"

What'd you forget?
Got a light?
I know you, you're--
You're shivering
It's nothing
They turned off my heat
And I'm just a little weak
On my feet
Would you light
My candle?
What are you staring at?
Your hair
In the moonlight
You look familiar
Can you make it?
Just haven't
Eaten much today
At least the room
Stopped spinning, anyway
Your smile reminded me of--
I always remind people of--
Who is she?
She died
Her name was April
It's out again
Sorry 'bout your friend
Would you light
My candle?
Oh, the wax. It's--
I like it between my--
I figured
Oh, well, good night
It blew out again?
No, I think
That I dropped my stash
I know I've seen you
Out and about
When I used to go out
You're candle's out
I'm illin'
I had it
When I walked in the door
It was pure
Is it on the floor?
The floor?
They say that I have the best ass
Below 14th street
Is it true?
You're staring again
Oh, no
I mean, you do
Have a nice--
I mean--
You look familiar
Like your dead girlfriend?
Only when you smile
But I'm sure I've seen
You somewhere else
Do you go
To the Cat Scratch Club?
That's where I work
I dance
They used to tie you up
It's a living
I didn't recognize you
Without the handcuffs
We could light
The candle
Oh, won't you light
The candle?
Why don't you forget
That stuff?
You look like you're 16
I'm 19
But I'm old for my age
I'm just born to be bad
I once was born to be bad
I used to shiver like that
I have no heat
I told you
I used to sweat
I got a cold
I used to be a junkie
But now and then
I like to feel good
Oh, here it--
What's that?
Candy-bar wrapper
We could light
The candle
Oh, what'd you do
With my candle?
That was my last match
Our eyes'll adjust
Thank God for the moon
Maybe it's not the moon
At all
I hear Spike Lee's shootin'
Down the street
Bah humbug
Bah humbug
Cold hands
Yours too
Like my father's
Do you wanna dance?
With you?
No, with my father
I'm Roger
They call me
They call me

Monday, April 6, 2015

"What You Own" from "Rent"

Don't breathe too deep
Don't think all day
Dive into work
Drive the other way
That drip of hurt
That pint of shame
Goes away
Just play the game

You're living in America
At the end of the millennium
You're living in America
Leave your conscience at the tone
And when you're living in America
At the end of the millennium
You're what you own

The filmmaker cannot see
And the songwriter cannot hear
Yet I see Mimi Everywhere
Angel's voice is in my ear
Just tighten those shoulders
Just clench your jaw till you frown
Just don't let go
Or you may drown

You're living in America
At the end of the millennium
You're living in America
Where it's like the Twilight Zone
And when you're living in America
At the end of the millennium
You're what you own

So I own not a notion
I escape and ape content
I don't own emotion, I rent

What was it about that night
What was it about that night
Connection in an isolating age
For once, the shadows gave way to light
For once, the shadows gave way to light
For once, I didn't disengage
Angel, I hear you
Mimi, I see you
I hear it
I see it
I see it
I hear it
I see it
I hear it
My film
My song

Alexi? Mark
One song glory
Call me a hypocrite
I need to finish my own film
Your eyes
I quit

Dying in America
At the end of the millennium
We're dying in America
To come into our own
And when you're dying in America
At the end of the millennium
You're not alone

I'm not alone
I'm not alone

Monday, March 23, 2015

"The Music of the Night" from "The Phantom of the Opera"

Nighttime sharpens
Heightens each sensation
Darkness wakes
And stirs imagination
Silently the senses
Abandon their defenses
Helpless to resist the notes I write
For I compose the music of the night

Slowly, gently
Night unfurls its splendor
Grasp it, sense it
Tremulous and tender
Hearing is believing
Music is deceiving
Hard as lightning, soft as candlelight
Dare you trust the music of the night

Close your eyes for your eyes will only tell the truth
And the truth isn't what you want to see
In the dark it is easy to pretend
That the truth is what it ought to be

Softly, deftly
Music shall caress you
Hear it, feel it
Secretly possess you
Open up your mind
Let your fantasies unwind
In this darkness which you know you cannot fight
The darkness of the music of the night

Close your eyes, start a journey through a strange new world
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before
Close your eyes and let music set you free!
Only then can you belong to me

Floating, falling
Sweet intoxication
Touch me, trust me
Savor each sensation
Let the dream begin
Let your darker side give in
To the power of the music that I write
The power of the music of the night

You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night

Monday, February 23, 2015

"La Vie Boheme" from "Rent"

Who died?

Our Akita.


You make fun, yet I am the one
Attempting to do some good.
Or do you really want a neighborhood
Where people piss on your stoop every night?
Bohemia, Bohemia's
A fallacy in your head.
This is Calcutta;
Bohemia is dead.

Dearly beloved, we gather here to say our goodbyes.

Dies irae - dies illa, Kyrie eleison.
Yitgadal v'yitadash.

Here she lies, no one knew her worth.
The late, great daughter of Mother Earth.
On these nights when we
Celebrate the birth
In that little town on Bethlehem.
We raise our glass, you bet your ass to
La vie Boheme.

La vie Boheme
La vie Boheme
La vie Boheme
La vie Boheme

To days of inspiration,
Playing hookey, making
Something out of nothing.
The need to express,
To communicate,
To going against the grain,
Going insane, going mad.
To loving tension, no pension.
To more than one dimension,
To starving for attention,
Hating convention, hating pretension.
Not to mention, of course,
Hating dear old Mom and Dad.
To riding your bike
Midday past the three-piece suits.
To fruits, to no absolutes,
To Absolut, to choice,
To the village voice,
To any passing fad,
To being an us for once, instead of a them!

La vie Boheme
La vie Boheme


Hey mister, she's my sister.

So that's five miso soup, four seaweed salad,
Three soy burger dinner, two tofu dog platter,
And one pasta with meatless balls.


It tastes the same.

If you close your eyes.

And thirteen orders of fries.
Is that all here?

Wine and beer!

To hand-crafted beers
Made in local breweries.
To yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese.
To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo,
To Huevos Rancheros and Maya Angelou.

Emotion, devotion, to causing a commontion.
Creation, vacation.

Mucho masturbation.

Compassion, to fashion, to passion when it's new.

To Sontag.

To Sondheim.

To anything taboo.

Ginsberg, Dylan, Cunningham, and Cage.

Lenny Bruce.

Langston Hughes.

To the stage.

To Uta, to Buddha, Pablo Neruda, too.

Why Dorothy and Toto went over the rainbow
To blow off Auntie Em.

La vie Boheme


We're close.


Bisexuals, trisexuals, homo sapiens,
Carcinogens, hallucinogens, men,
Pee Wee Herman.
German wine, turpentine, Gertrude Stein,
Antoniotti, Bertolucci, Kurosawa,
Camina Burana.

To apathy, to entropy, to empathy, ecstasy.
Vaclav Havel, The Sex Pistols, 8BC.
To no shame, never playing the fame game.

To marijuana.

To sodomy, it's between God and me.
To S & M.

Waiter, waiter, waiter, waiter!

La vie Boheme

In honor of the death of Bohemia, an impromptu salon will commence immediately following dinner.
Maureen Johnson, just back from her spectacular one-night engagement at the eleventh street lot, will perform Native American tribal chants backwards through her vocoder, while accompanying herself on the electric cello, which she has never studied.

And Mark Cohen will preview his new documentary about his inability to hold an erection on the high holy days.

And Mimi Marquez, clad only in bubble wrap, will perform her famous lawn chair handcuff dance to the sounds of iced tea being stirred.

Your new boyfriend doesn't know about us.

There's nothing to know.

Don't you think that we should discuss-

It was three months ago.

He doesn't act like he's with you.

We're taking it slow.

Where is he now?

He's right--Hmm, Where'd he go?

And Roger will attempt to write a bittersweet, evocative song . . . that doesn't remind us of "Musetta's Waltz."

Angel Dumott Schunard will model the latest fall fashions from Paris while accompanying herself on the ten-gallon plastic pickle tub.

And Collins will recount his exploits as anarchist, including the tale of the successful reprogramming of the M.I.T. virtual reality equipment to self-destruct, as it broadcasts the words:

Actual reality. Act up. Fight AIDS.

Excuse me, did I do something wrong?
I get invited, then ignored all night long.

I've been trying. I'm not lying.
No one's perfect. I've got baggage.

Life's too short, babe, time is flying.
I'm looking for baggage that does with mine.

I should tell you.

I got baggage, too.

I should tell you.


Wine and beer!

AZT break.


Me. You?


Monday, February 16, 2015

Prospero from "The Tempest" by William Shakespeare

Now that my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own,
Which is most faint. Now 'tis true
I must be here confined by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got
And pardoned the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell,
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands.
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardoned be,
Let your indulgence set me free.