Act one, part three
You enter the stage, painted face
You glide on stilted feet across
These antiquated wooden floors.
And that smile.
Try as you might to astonish your audience.
But, oh, it seems you’ve forgotten
Your transparent linen dress
Your dusty brown eyes, effortlessly glaring
A diamond intrusion
It just cuts through you.
It just
Cuts
Right
Through
You.
Good god, your makeup is smeared.
Jesus, mother. Prepare!
To play your part…
God knows you need preparation.
You’ve always been this tiny, perfect idea.
But under these white lights,
I can see the pallor in your cheeks,
As they strain to fight past your grooved smile lines,
And hush the glow of your yellowed eyes.
Love me, love me, love me.
And forget my past.
Forget what I did to you.
Oh please daughter,
At least pretend I am ok for you.
I would. I swear I would.
If only you could divulge
Who really wrote those lines for you?
Write me out of your script.
Edit. Edit. Edit.
An unfaithful heart, and pirate thought.
You’ve pillaged all I ever had for you.
Get off the fucking stage.
Please, just get off of the fucking stage.
Its all happening right now, don’t you see?
Take your hair down,
Jesus, no one is watching you now.
You take the hand of your dying son,
You mutter inconsequential somethings in my ear.
And you still don’t see what’s happening.
Step down, step down.
You aren’t fit for this part.
Your son,
He’s dying, mother.
He’s fucking dying.
What grows inside isn’t erased by your futile smile.
He’s only fucking twenty-two…
You selfish, selfish…
Get off of the fucking stage.
Please, goddamn you.
Step down.
This isn’t your part.
This never was your part.
But where is my father, you ask?
He’s picking up your pieces.
Forever, just picking up your fucking pieces.
The money will fix it, right?
Doesn’t is always?
Fuck your love. Just buy me something.
Solace my insides with a new something.
God knows, that’s all we ever needed.
But it’s just you.
It’s all you.
You’re all we ever needed.
{Exit scene: the lights disappear}
You’ve got no room to shine now, do you?
We hand you daisies,
You pet his ailment,
And you still can’t read these thoughts.
The curtains are closed, mother.
They always have been.
Your performance amiss,
Your crowd resides in your troubled head.
It’s time now.
Get off the fucking stage.
Take a step, before I knock you off.
{Empty theatre, your head will drop}
Write a line in reality.
Give me some fucking hope.
You enter the stage, painted face
You glide on stilted feet across
These antiquated wooden floors.
And that smile.
Try as you might to astonish your audience.
But, oh, it seems you’ve forgotten
Your transparent linen dress
Your dusty brown eyes, effortlessly glaring
A diamond intrusion
It just cuts through you.
It just
Cuts
Right
Through
You.
Good god, your makeup is smeared.
Jesus, mother. Prepare!
To play your part…
God knows you need preparation.
You’ve always been this tiny, perfect idea.
But under these white lights,
I can see the pallor in your cheeks,
As they strain to fight past your grooved smile lines,
And hush the glow of your yellowed eyes.
Love me, love me, love me.
And forget my past.
Forget what I did to you.
Oh please daughter,
At least pretend I am ok for you.
I would. I swear I would.
If only you could divulge
Who really wrote those lines for you?
Write me out of your script.
Edit. Edit. Edit.
An unfaithful heart, and pirate thought.
You’ve pillaged all I ever had for you.
Get off the fucking stage.
Please, just get off of the fucking stage.
Its all happening right now, don’t you see?
Take your hair down,
Jesus, no one is watching you now.
You take the hand of your dying son,
You mutter inconsequential somethings in my ear.
And you still don’t see what’s happening.
Step down, step down.
You aren’t fit for this part.
Your son,
He’s dying, mother.
He’s fucking dying.
What grows inside isn’t erased by your futile smile.
He’s only fucking twenty-two…
You selfish, selfish…
Get off of the fucking stage.
Please, goddamn you.
Step down.
This isn’t your part.
This never was your part.
But where is my father, you ask?
He’s picking up your pieces.
Forever, just picking up your fucking pieces.
The money will fix it, right?
Doesn’t is always?
Fuck your love. Just buy me something.
Solace my insides with a new something.
God knows, that’s all we ever needed.
But it’s just you.
It’s all you.
You’re all we ever needed.
{Exit scene: the lights disappear}
You’ve got no room to shine now, do you?
We hand you daisies,
You pet his ailment,
And you still can’t read these thoughts.
The curtains are closed, mother.
They always have been.
Your performance amiss,
Your crowd resides in your troubled head.
It’s time now.
Get off the fucking stage.
Take a step, before I knock you off.
{Empty theatre, your head will drop}
Write a line in reality.
Give me some fucking hope.
