VERSE 1 Laptop on, and the screensaver stilled, New Word document just waiting to be filled. My fingers are poised and my first sentence rehearsed. It’s 11:59, October thirty-first. A fresh pot of coffee and plenty of snacks, Defib machine against possible heart attacks. This last minute’s going by way to slow . . . Oh, my God, it’s midnight! Here I go! It’s time to kick some literary ass! No time for chores, work, a social life, or class. I don’t even have time to write this song well, Which is why this section sounds like Pachelbel. I’ve got one thousand, six hundred sixty-seven words To write before the day is out. A fifty thousand word novel in just thirty days, And not a clue what it should be about! VERSE 2 Week one, and I’m going strong! Hell, this is easy, I can do this all month long. I may even finish up by day ten, And then I can do it all over again! The words flow like a river on a rainy day, I’m well on my way towards that 50K. Momentum is going, no slowing down. . . . Nothing can stop me now! I’m kicking some serious novel-writing ass! And it’s true, I may be falling behind in class, Dirty dishes lay forgotten in a growing pile, And it’s possible I haven’t showered in a while, But I've got one thousand six hundred sixty-seven words To write, and more if time will allow. I’m just ten thousand words into my novel . . . . . . oh, crap, what happens now? VERSE 3 It’s week two, and I’ve hit a wall. Maybe I can’t really do this after all. And everything I’ve written just sounds like poo. What did I get myself into? My plot twists pack a feeble punch. My dialogue sounds like it’s from The Brady Bunch. And every single one of my metaphors Sounds like . . . a really bad . . . metaphor . . . My characters are floundering through their tale, The author they’re in search of is an epic fail. And I have to resist, with all my being To go back and rewrite everything. ‘Cause I've got one thousand six hundred and sixty-seven words To write before my brain is shot. I’m twenty thousand words into my novel, And I still have not located the plot! BRIDGE (or VERSE 3.5) But now I’m fighting out of this slump, Chris Baty writes and gets me off of my rump. I go and visit Heather Dudley’s station For creative methods of procrastination I go and read Lindsey Grant’s Q&A, Find out what the people in the forums say. And after I've read through a Pep Talk or two I suddenly know what I have to do! Write one thousand six hundred sixty-seven words For National Novel Writing Month. Just keep plugging ahead and don’t look back, . . . Damn it, nothing rhymes with month. VERSE 4 Week three, and we’re half way there. I’m a bit behind, but I don’t care. I’ve finally got my second wind, And I’m gonna have this word count pinned. And then, week four, the end is in sight. The tunnel’s still dark, but I can see the light. But I’m still woefully behind, There’s gotta be some more words that I can find! Introduce a new character, describe a tree. Maybe add a sex scene to chapter thirty-three. I don't care about my mistakes any more. As they say, editing is what December is for! I’ve got the last thousand six hundred sixty-seven words To write before the month is done. I'm 50,000 words into my novel . . . Oh, my God, I actually won! TAG I wrote a thousand six hundred and sixty-seven words A day until the month was through. It took strength, caffeine, and plenty of tears, But in the end, there was nothing to fear, So to all you WriMos, I’ll see you next year, But right now, I’ve got some editing to do!

VERSE 1: I don’t normally . . . write songs, My talent for lyrics is sporadic at best. I wrote a few in . . . high school, But they were pretty lame, so I gave it a rest. But ever since the day that I joined YouTube, There were people singing songs. It made me want to write again, Even if it sounded wrong. So I dug out my . . . keyboard, I dusted it off, turned it on, and said “It’s time I put to . . . good use This bachelor’s degree I got in music ed.” I posted a simple song or two, And my audience was there. I don’t make a lot of money, it’s true, But I guess I don’t really care. CHORUS: I may have sold my soul for 1,000 subscribers, I may have mortgaged my mind for 10,000 views, It’s possible I’ve leased my life for a front page feature But I’ve just donated my dreams to You . . . Tube. VERSE 2: My English teacher was . . . the worst! Higher level thinking wasn’t taught to me. So though I read a lot of . . . books, I Was never taught to read critically. I got through college all right, because The one skill I possessed That I learned in that English class Was the fine art of BS. So, then I logged into . . . YouTube, And found other readers, wise and sage, And I found out quickly that . . . there’s more To reading than just what appears on the page. Smart people on the internet? Who’d have thought? I learned their lessons well. They taught me what my class could not. High school English could go straight to hell. CHORUS BRIDGE: Sorry I haven’t vlogged, but I’ve been busy with work. I really need to rant because my teacher’s a jerk. This quality’s the best that I can afford. I thought I’d make a video, because I’m bored. You see us in the windows where we appear, But have you ever wondered just why we’re here? VERSE 3: I was always the . . . shy one. My IRL social life was a bust. I needed friends who . . . cared for Something other than themselves. That was a must. But all the people that I knew Were drowning in apathy. How can you constantly be bored When there’s so much to do and see? I had just about lost . . . all hope In humanity’s forward progress, When I found these people here . . . online, Who are awesome, in the literal sense. I found my friends, but more, I found The confidence I lacked. There’s caring people in the world. It’s more than hope . . . it’s fact. CHORUS TAG: It isn’t perfect, there’s no doubt, Things go bad now and then. But I sold my soul to something good, And I’d make the same choice again. CHORUS

VERSE 1: I must admit I didn’t plan this theme too well, ‘Cause I scheduled the rapping during the week of hell, And now I’m up against it and this rhyming won’t gel, Aw, hell, I gotta tell you why this is so pell-mell. So I got home from my classes last evening, right? And I’m starting to relax with the weekend in sight, And then I realize, “Crap! It’s Thursday night! Gotta write, or I might just fail, and time is tight!” So I sat at my computer, started writing fast And looking for ideas from my two raps past And thinking that this current one might be my last As the dastardly master of rhyming that’s half-assed. CHORUS 1: It’s my 24-hour rap, And I feel kinda like a sap, ‘Cause I know it’s gonna sound like crap. This was slapped in my lap, I just wanna take a nap! And I don’t know how this’ll end. Rhyming dictionary is my friend. And the amount of time I spend Will depend on the rendering speed of what I send. VERSE 2: So, I have to admit that I’m having this fear Of just using all the rhymes from my rap last year, Which may very well earn me many a jeer. I should steer plenty clear of that rap. (Or so I hear.) But you have to understand, let me explain, please. I can only rhyme so many words with ease Without offending grammar and syntax Nazis. Aw, geez! It’s unfeasible! Really, can’t you sees? But here I am, I’m trying, and for better or worse, I’m just about to finish up the second verse. Though I wish I’d had a little more time to rehearse, But let’s nurse this curse, and then let it all disperse. CHORUS 2: It’s my 24-hour rhyme, And it really should be a crime, ‘Cause I know it’s far from sublime. I would climb from this slime, but I just don’t have the time. And I don’t know where this’ll land, But it’s probably pretty bland. I’m just a geek from marching band. You should stand and demand that my rapping should be banned. VERSE 3: Okay, I have a confession to make: This rap’s content is all a big fake, It’s a scam, it’s a sham, the time it did take, But make no mistake, this was not a piece of cake. Last week, this would have been perfectly true. I just had so much non-rap-able stuff to do. And I didn’t want to come up with anything new, And who but a few could ever say they knew? I really hope this fact will not give you grief. Just try and willingly suspend your disbelief. I hope you won’t consider me a petty thief. But relief! We will briefly be done. So there’s no beef. VERSE 4: So back to our story, lie that it may be, I’m still spewing useless rhymes, as you can see, And I know I’ll have to end this all eventually, And flee shamelessly, so my viewers won’t hurt me. But not to worry, listeners, we’re almost done. There are only four verses, and this is the last one. And then one more chorus, and this horrid rap is spun. What fun! Let the shunning begin! Oh, it’s begun. You’re wondering when I’ll finish this, I suppose. And any further rapping you are sure to oppose. I’ve had more than enough of this, Heaven knows, I propose that I mosey and bring this rap to close. CHORUS 3: It’s my 24-hour song, And by now, you can hum along But I think I should say “So long.” Why prolong any longer when it is clearly wrong? And I don’t know how this turns out, Not like something to write home about, Unless this rap has got some clout, Which I doubt. So I’ll shout, “D-F-T-B-Sah, I’m out!”

VERSE 1 Well there’s not a single K within my name. And I barely have a tenth of your YouTube fame. And you’ve toured the world, albeit with your choir, And I know you have your sights set much higher, Okay, what’s my point? Well, I’ll explain. See, we’re both music majors, therefore certifiably insane. I hear a story where you stalked a particular celebrity. And I guess I was just wondering . . . if you could do the same for me? Would you stalk me (like you stalked Bruce Willis?) Would you get in your car and chase me down the street? Maybe I can creep you out by singing this song, You could creep me out following me all day long, And maybe we won’t seem so creepy when we finally meet. VERSE 2 Believe me, I know I’m no Edward Cullen, But at least I understand the proper use of the semicolon. And though you may find it a bit perplexing, When you talk about grammar, it’s dead sexy. Okay. We’re into the same stuff. Musical theatre and Harry Potter, can’t get enough. The Hoedown Throwdown was a challenge, and you took it. Plus you love the Disney channel . . . okay, nobody’s perfect. I’ll overlook it. Would you stalk me (like you stalked Bruce Willis?) Would you get in your car and chase me down the street? I know that this all seems pretty strange But let me reassure you, I’m not deranged, Maybe I can creep you out by singing this song, You could creep me out following me all day long, And maybe we won’t seem so creepy when we finally meet. BRIDGE I really think that we can make this work, And at the risk of sounding like a jerk, I believe in love at first video, and I think I am a pretty diehard fan! VERSE 3 See, I like you. And that’s a problem, ‘cause I find, That in your videos, you are absolutely out of your mind. But I guess it’s not entirely your fault That you come off as kind of maniacal. Okay, don’t be mad. Let’s be clear. I mean, it’s not like I’m playing with a full deck myself, here. And I think I can match your insanity, pound for pound I mean, hell, I’m singing you this song asking you to follow me around! Would you stalk me (like you stalked Bruce Willis?) Would you get in your car and chase me down the street? I know this request sounds really weird, And I know you prefer me without a beard, It’s bizarre, I know, but let’s give it a try, The choir girl and that band guy. Maybe I can creep you out by singing this song, You could creep me out following me all day long, And maybe we won’t seem so creepy when we finally meet.

VERSE 1: Smiling girl with long red hair, and numbers at the end of her name. Bearded guy, who’s kind of strange . . . with more of the same. We talk about psychology all night and into the day, But we live over two thousand miles away. I watch you say how Harry Potter could be considered a cult, And how the lack of videos was . . . the ADD’s fault. But whether you’re making shadow puppets or geeking out over psych, Forgive me . . . but I think I’m in Nerdfighterlike. CHORUS: What would Freud Think if he could see us Skyping, Always talking via typing, Never meeting face-to-face? What would Freud Think if he could see us joking, Vlogging, chatting, facebook poking, But never in the same place? This may not be your typical love song. But YouTube and Facebook can’t be wrong. It’s insane, I realize, so Could you psychoanalyze our love? VERSE 2: It’s strange to think that I know you by Helvetica text on a page, Or your face within a small rectangle . . . yet I still feel this way. Experts say it’ll never work, that calamity will ensue. I just made that last part up, but I’ll bet that they do. It seems as if I’m living in a completely impossible world, One where I might, possibly, maybe . . . actually get the girl. You make me feel that if you were to ask me out on a date, I know I’d gladly move out to Washington State. CHORUS BRIDGE: D’you feel awkward and small? Well just look at all Of the times that I stuttered or fell. You think you’re losing your mind? Well, I think that you’ll find, If you look at me closely, I’m a nutter as well! VERSE 3: What if the IRL you is not as wonderful as it seems? Would that mean that the you I know is . . . only a dream? I think if Sigmund Freud were here, then he may just say so. Well, you know what . . . what does Freud know? FINAL CHORUS: What would Freud Think if he could see me writing, Filming, editing, and fighting YouTube maintenance to post. He would think That I’m crazy, singing, playing, Syncing all my words, and taking Ten hours at the most. You may just be this girl on YouTube, And I may just be hopeless, lovesick noob, And I know Freud would despise it If he psychoanalyzed our love . . . It’s insane I realize it, But I just can’t compromise it, ‘Cause I’ve really come to prize it, Can’t just sever all my ties, so At the risk of proselytizing, Could you psychoanalyze our love?

VERSE 1: I know you’ve read a lot of books, So I thought I’d go and take a look And see what all the fuss is about. And pretty soon, I found out That these stories that you love so well Have a common happenstance. I guess you could say that I just fell For literature’s perception of romance. CHORUS 1: I want to be the Ron to your Hermione Or the Harry to your Ginny, If you will be Jane Bennett to Mr. Bingly, Or Elizabeth to my Darcy. Maybe it’s foolish of me to think That the two of us have a chance, But I want to have a literary romance. VERSE 2: I read the story of the Odyssey, And how Odysseus’ Penelope, Despite how the Gods forced him to roam Waited for him to return home. I want to be like the literary couples who dare To love, in a world run amuck. Cupid and Psyche, or Henry and Claire, But not Edward and Bella, ‘cause . . . that just sucks. CHORUS 2: I want to be the Pudge to your Alaska, But without the whole dying thing. I want to be the Lancelot to your Guinevere, But without cheating on the king. Let the naysayers have their say, But I don’t want hear “won’t”s and “can’t”s. I want to have a literary romance. BRIDGE: The Fyero to your Elphaba, The Perceus to your Andromeda, The Colin to his non-Katherine, Or the Q to Margo Roth Spiegleman. And you say, “Dude, this can’t end well.” And it’s possible that I’m crazy as hell. But I’ve read too many books, you see. My expectations are not grounded in reality. VERSE 3: I know I’d like us to take the place Of Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, Because, you see, in the storybook world, The guy usually gets the girl. Making a fictional romance last In the real world, that’s the trick. Like Hebe with Heracles, (after he’d passed), Or Robert Langdon with . . . take your pick. CHORUS 3: I want to be Lysander to your Hermia, (No faerie magic; the real thing.) But I won’t be Romeo to your Juliet, I want more than just an angsty fling. And you might think that it’s just a game, That I just want to get in your pants. But I really want a literary romance. (repeat last line several times)

Hey guys. Time for a book review. And this time it’s gonna be something new. (Hey, that rhymed. Weird.) This book is not from the favorites list, But I didn’t want this review to be missed. (Whoa. That rhymed again.) The Lost Symbol, a new book by Dan Brown. I’m gonna review it. How does that sound? Okay, who am I, LoFiChuck? Seriously, what the f--? (Music starts) You’ve got to be kidding me. Well, here comes something you may not want to see. So! Bobby Langdon, he’s a real smart guy. He teaches at Harvard and he doesn’t wear a tie. Tweed jacket, pair of loafers, and turtleneck sweater. But hang on there, ladies, it gets even better. When it comes to symbols, he knows his stuff, And as if all of that weren’t enough, He’s explored all the deepest mysteries Of the cities of Rome, London, and Paris, Uncovering secrets, breaking barriers down, In two previous novels by Dan Brown. Hey! Incidentally, this video rap Is a response to some driving sap Who reviewed the Langdon trilogy And found a number of similarities Between the three separate stories that Dan Brown wrote, And this driving reviewer makes a point of noting That this latest story isn’t all that new. Links in the sidebar, now back to the review. Now! That he’s exhausted Europe’s mysteries, Dan Brown focuses on his own country. Washington DC, to be specific, Where symbols are numerous and prolific. Langdon comes with the intention of talking (a lot), And then finds himself part of a fiendish plot Of a mysterious, tattoo-covered man Who’s kidnapped his friend, Peter Soloman, A Mason of the thirty-third degree, A man with a lot of secrets, see. Now, Langdon has to save his friend, In order to do so, he’ll have to send His kidnapper to a place, way down Where secrets and treasures lay under the ground. And now old Langdon’s getting pissed, ‘Cause he doesn’t believe such a place exists. Oh! Before I go on, I gotta ask How is it that Langdon always gets these tasks That tend to put his life at risk And put him in a horrible fix? I mean, how much can one guy do? Okay, I’m done. Now, back to the review. So! I still like Angels and Demons the best. With Da Vinci Code, I was less impressed. I enjoyed Lost Symbol, in the end, But the books seem to be on a downward trend. It’s the first of Dan Brown’s books that missed Getting added to the favorites list, So I’ll tell you what I didn’t like ‘bout what he wrote, So we can end this rap on a positive note. Right! As I predicted in a previous review, It’s the same damn story as books one and two! The only real difference is the location. He’s exploring the mysteries of this nation. But the characters and even the plot, This book’s got the same as the others have got. Agent Sato? A female rehash Of Officers Ollivetti and Fache. The tattooed man is a bizarre blend Of the Albino and our creepy assassin friend. And has anyone noticed, besides me, That Langdon has fallen for a total three Copies of the same brunette woman That we always meet and never hear from again? And as for the plot, it’s still the same With Langdon playing this guessing game And unraveling the mystery As he goes from scene to familiar scene. Then we get to the end and . . . hey look, There are still fifty pages left in the book, ‘Cause there’s still a bunch that he didn’t explain, But to tell you the truth, it’s kind of pain To read through all that when the story’s done. When reveal is gradual, it’s a lot more fun. And the major plot twist that we always see? I figured it out by chapter fifty-three. ‘Cause I’ve read enough of Dan Brown’s lit That I know when he’s pulling this kind of s***. But! Now on to the things that I enjoyed So you haters out there won’t get annoyed. After learning stuff about Paris, London, and Rome, It was nice to learn about things from here at home, To look at the world of the Masons, And the things they believe about our nation. And although its placement was kind of grating, The last fifty pages were fascinating: Another perspective on history And speculations on the mysteries Of our mind, thoughts, and dreams, and how they relate To religion, mythology, and mankind’s fate. And the message, like the other books in kind, Just reminding us to keep an open mind. So! Overall, I liked the book, And I may even give it a second look. It’s not a favorite, but that’s okay, I think you should read it anyway. But please do read the other two first, Because of the three, this one’s still the worst. So, now I’m gonna stop this ridiculous rhyme By saying buh-bye now, see you next time.

VERSE 1: There is man who comes home drunk each night, And forces his poor wife into an unwanted fight. Her sleepless little girl waits on the porch again, They’re barely holding it together, they’re broken. An old woman sits in her house, alone, Waiting for her long lost lover to return home, And a girl runs barefoot, no, not runs, she flies, And when she does, she has beauty in my eyes. And so I stand and shiver With a message, undelivered For these three And I pray, “God, let this please be, The right thing,” but it’s not easy. I can’t see. CHORUS: So I’ll protect the diamonds, I’ll survive the clubs, Dig deep through the spades, And I’ll feel the hearts. All these people to spy on In homes, parks, and pubs, They all need my aid, So it’s time to start. But I’m stumbling through, I don’t know what to do. I hope what I’m doing is right. But who is the man With this intricate plan, Who is sending me to fight his fight As the messenger? VERSE 2: There is a man, a priest, who tries his best, To lead his tiny flock, on this day of rest. There is woman, who weekly treats her kids, But never treats herself for the work she did. And as I humble myself, I think Of the kid whose brother’s life stinks Because of The pain that he has eaten, So I let myself get beaten, All for love. BRIDGE: And I try to imagine what it would be like, To be a stranger at Christmas, without any light, And I try to see from an old man’s point of view, As he sits in the theater with nothing to do. My mom thinks I’m worthless, and better off dead, And though it hurts like a fist, it needs to be said. I’m nothing. I’m no one. I’m useless. Just Ed. VERSE 3: There is a man, who happens to be my friend, Who can’t be bothered to find the life he wants to spend. He does his job, plays his cards, gets past, But unrealized potential is all he has. There is the cheapest man I’ve ever known, He’s saving for the day when his child has grown, And the girl I love, but love she doesn’t want to see. But I give her just three minutes, and let her love me. And just when I think I’m done, I look, and there’s one last one, Joke’s on me. And I’m shaky and I’m nervous, What have I done to deserve this Charity? FINAL CHORUS: I protected the diamonds, Survived the clubs, Dug deep through the spades, And I felt the hearts. I found something to climb on, Made mistakes and flubs, Found something to change With each and every part. I took kudos and blame, I played through this card game, I struggled and strove, went through hell. But I just didn’t know, That they’d want me to grow, And expect me to change as well.

VERSE 1: Hey there Jo, I don’t mean to bug you, And I don’t want to sound like a prick, As it happens I really love your series, But I’ve got a little bone to pick. I know it’s difficult to keep track Of all the characters you put in. And I don’t blame you for the movie’s addition Of some random black kid and plot convenient twins, But the fact of the matter is you seem to have misplaced A character from Harry’s first year. She was with them all as they were sorted, But by year five, she had disappeared. And now I’m left to wonder Just what became of this girl? If she never took her OWLS, then How did she get a job in the wizarding world? CHORUS: Oh, whatever happened Sally-Anne Perks? Did her parents not like Dumbledore and all his little quirks? Did she just think that Snape and the Slytherins were jerks? Or was she afraid that Harry Potter would just go berserk? Did she get too close to where the basilisk lurks? Did she try to Apparate without knowing how it works? Or did she just flunk out for not completing all her work? Whatever happened to Sally-Anne Perks? VERSE 2: You might think that I’m nitpicking, But it’s kind of an anomaly. We don’t even know what Hogwarts house she’s in, Though she was sorted right before Harry. As they were called to take their OWLS, She should have been in the same place, Between Patil and Potter, but Her name wasn’t called, and she never showed her face. So what happened between years one and five, To remove this girl from the list? Since we only heard her name mentioned once, It’s almost like she doesn’t exist! But I’m still not convinced, Jo. She’s out there, on the literary lam. ‘Cause I made a Google image search, and . . . . . . I mean, damn. CHORUS BRIDGE: All right Jo, I’ll tell you what, ‘Cause I know you haven’t got the time. I’ll just make her story up myself, And if I do a good job, maybe it’ll even rhyme. VERSE 3: So, she was sorted, just before Harry, To Hufflepuff (because that’s my house.) She went through four years at Hogwarts, But she didn’t like the work and all she did was moan and grouse So, with OWLS looming, and Umbridge foul, And Voldemort’s return imminent, She decided to pursue a wizard rock career, So she toured with the Weird Sisters through Lancaster and Kent, ‘Til a talent agent saw her and said, “You should consider a stage career At the Wizarding Academy for Dramatic Arts.” (For my sister’s sake, I had to include that here.) And that’s what I think happened To this mysterious anomalistic girl. Of course, I guess it’s also possible that . . . . . . JK Rowling just made a mistake and . . . forgot to add her name to the list of people taking OWLS . . . but this is so much more interesting! CHORUS

VERSE 1: P: I never was much, and I never claimed to be. Q: Content to blend in with the background scenery P: Just wanted to live a normal life. Q: College, a job, maybe a wife. P: She was constantly the talk of the school. Q: I was just some guy, and she was the height of cool. P: And yet, we shared that last amazing night. Q: And now she’s gone and nothing’s right. P: I thought it was to be continued the next day. Q: But her personality got in the way. VERSE 2: P: That night she left. It was just out of the blue. Q: I didn’t worry much, ‘cause this was nothing new. P: And then I received that gut-retching news, Q: And I obsess over cryptic clues. P:I wander through this cluttered, empty room. Q: And I can’t help it, it just feels like a tomb. P: Take in the scent of her and my thoughts turn black Q: As I realize . . . she’s not coming back. P: And here I thought I had her all figured out. Q: Did anyone know what she was all about? CHORUS: Q: Was she yellow or blue? Was she happy or sad? Is she just playing a trick? Or are things really bad? Does she want to live? Does she want to die? Or is she just a helium-filled balloon in the sky? Will she come back or is she gone for good? How much more have I misunderstood? And why did she leave those clues behind? What the hell was on her mind? VERSE 3: P: There can be no doubt that she left a legacy. The pranks she pulled will go down in school history. Q: The things she did here have changed everyone. I wish she could see how much she’s done. P: They tell me to quit. To give her up for lost. I can’t follow her down the road where she’s been tossed. Q: They say that she just doesn’t want to be found, And I can’t pull her string back to the ground. B: But still I search, afraid of what I’ll find, But more afraid of leaving her behind. CHORUS (INSTRUMENTAL) BRIDGE: P: Was the labyrinth too much for her to bear? Did the strings break, leaving her in open air? If only I’d gotten to know her before, And now it’s after, and there’s no chance anymore. VERSE 4: Q: A poet once said to look upon the ground, To the grass beneath our feet, and perhaps answers can be found. But it’s as much of a mystery as she, There’s so many things that those leaves could be. The vessel has cracked, if only just a bit. P: And maybe straight and fast is the only way out of it. Q: And as I see what this small glimpse can tell, B: I lose some of myself as well. Q: There’s so much about her that I still don’t understand. B: But I’m looking as hard as I can. CHORUS (B) CHORUS (Q) WITH BRIDGE (P)

VERSE 1: Once Upon A Time In a land far away, Long, long ago, There lived . . . A boy with his mother, A girl in a wood, A force that was evil, A force that was good, A strong, clever woman, A poor, broken man, And that is where our story began. Once Upon A Time, In a forsaken world, In a better time, There was . . . A magical kingdom, A treasure of gold, A feud between families That was centuries old, A fall from the heavens, A journey to Hell, Oh have I got a story to tell! ... Gather around, And I’ll tell a story, That will transcend time and space, From the generic time and place, The familiar words of Once Upon A Time. VERSE 2: It starts out with a call, To suspend disbelief And when we do We meet . . . The unlikely hero, who’s off on a quest, His courage and mettle are put the test, He has to rely on his wits to survive, We’re drawn to his kindness, charisma, and drive. Conflict will arise, Of this you can be sure, But just what will He fight . . . ? It may be a man with whom he is at odds, Or perhaps the almighty wrath of the Gods, Or trapped in the Wilderness, and stumbling blind, Or merely trapped inside his own mind. ... We’re breathless as We hear the story, And what will happen next, In the pictures, voice, or text Of a story that takes place Once Upon A Time. BRIDGE: And suddenly, we’re on the edge of our seats To see if our hero survives. We triumph at his victories, despair at defeats, And we start to realize. That stories don’t just exist in faerie worlds, They exist in our own lives. VERSE 3: Once Upon A Time In a town, much like this, Not long ago, There lived . . . A boy with his mother, The girl down the road, A lonely curmudgeon With a heart of gold, A bully who just wants To be understood, Oh wait ‘til you hear it, It’s gonna be good! The plot will run its course, And the tale will conclude, But it will nev- -er end . . . For tales beget tales When a story is earned, There’s the quote you’ll remember, And the lesson you’ve learned, And the characters go off To lead their own lives, But that’s another story For another time. ... Gather around . . . And know that we need stories, And once you hear the name, Your life may never be the same Hence the fame of Once Upon A Time.

Come gather ‘round children, I tell you a story Of a battle that raged on for many a year. Both sides wanted honor and both wanted glory And both sides were forces that many did fear. On one side, the sea-faring bandits and thieves; On the other, the black-clothed killing machines. It started out ghastly and bloody and gory And ended with the tale that you’re going to hear. One black day, a war-weary pirate did wander Through the carnage and blood-spattered field of war. Twelve years of fighting, and he was no fonder Of the enemy ninja than he had been before. Somehow or other he’d managed to survive, And he said, “Arr, I must be the last one alive!” He gave a slow sigh and then sat down to ponder The battle that had started just twelve years before. That fateful day, a pirate wandered to a tavern, old, And ordered rums for everyone and paid with piles of gold. A ninja sat with them, hidden well away from sight. Then suddenly, the swords were drawn, and they began to fight. No one knows how it began, and no one saw its end, For they were bitter enemies, yet each had many friends. The battle spread into the streets, the land, the sea, the sky, And twelve years later a pirate captain is left to wonder why. The air is hung thick with the taste of men’s folly, The stale smell of death and the ripe smell of blood, Ground covered with feathers from bright birds named Polly, And peg legs and nunchucks and many a black hood. The pirate stood slowly and, facing the sun, Gave a great barking laugh and said, “I guess I’ve won!” Then out of the rubble he saw someone crawl, he Was dressed all in black from his head to his foot. “Hark!” called the pirate, his eyes widened slightly, “I think we’re the only ones left on this field!” The ninja looked at him, came to his feet lightly, And gave a small nod, though his lips remained sealed. They were the last pirate and ninja that night, And so said the pirate, “Let’s finish this fight!” The ninja said nothing, but knew he spoke rightly, For neither the pirate nor ninja would yield. The pirate’s hand when to his belt and soon his swords were drawn. But barely had he looked up than the man in black was gone. The air hung thick with tension as he looked around in fright, And suddenly, the ninja pounced, and they began to fight. The pirate yelled, “A clever trick, but not clever enough, I say!” His two swords clashed against his one, determined to make him pay. “I should expect not one whit less from a ninja such as you!” The ninja didn’t speak, because ninjas never do. Instead he leapt and somersaulted high into the air, He landed feet away and found a sword’s point waiting there. The pirate bared his yellowed teeth, his swords were all a-blur, Slashing, jabbing, coming round, his aim was true and sure. “Come on!” he yelled, “Stand still, why don’t you! Fight me like a man!” In silent answer, the ninja kicked the swords right from his hand. A roundhouse kick, a jab, the pirate ducked it just in time. They now fought hand-in-hand while dancing through the blood and grime. The ninja grabbed the pirate, threw him hard upon the ground, And pointed swords directly where the pirate’s heart was found. The pirate swung a peg leg right into the ninja’s head, And as the ninja staggered ‘round, the pirate rose and said, “You may have nimble moves, but I have cunning, wit, and clout, Yet still I cannot fathom what we’ve been fighting about.” The ninja grabbed his sword, preparing for another stab, And said in raspy tones, “You bastards left us with the tab!” They both fought with honor and gusto and courage, They fought with each other well into the night. By full moon’s light silhouettes clash, shadows merge, And neither showed signs of conceding the fight. The essence of nimbleness, cold strength, and stealth, And the epitome of misbegotten wealth, The both got together for one final skirmish And so it continued ‘til the pale morning light. Instrumental Interlude (during which there will be fighting) Then suddenly with an echoing clatter, fit to wake the dead, The pirate’s slashing swords fell to the floor. The captain sighed and looked straight at the ninja, and he said, “I just can’t go on fighting anymore. I yield, good ninja, I surrender, I bow before the blade, For I never knew what I was fighting for. Just one request: unmask yourself and let me see your face, The kill me quick, and let us end this war!” The ninja stood silent and still as the night As the pirate knelt bravely awaiting his end. It could be a trick, this uncommon sight, And yet, his own mask ninja prepared to rend. The dawn’s light shone dim on the now exposed face. The pirate sat dumb as he stared at the place Where a female ninja stood, lovely and mighty. She opened her mouth and she spoke the word, “Friend.” “Friend, just like you, I am turned of this war, And if you can make peace with a ninja like I, Then I cannot kill you, and shall kill no more. Let us go off together and strengthen this tie.” The pirate and ninja walked together in the light, Put their old lives behind them, including their fight. And next year, the first ninja pirate was born, And the pirate and ninja sang this lullaby. “All we are saying is give ninja/pirate peace a chance. All we are saying is give ninja/pirate peace a chance.” ‘Course, it’s just a story from my imagination. It never really happened, and probably never will. But it is my hope that the pirate/ninja nation Can put aside their stubborn urges to kill. Perhaps they can forget their old enmity And suspend their mutual animosity. Or perhaps I’m an old fool in need of sedation, But this is my dream, and so dream it I will.

VERSE 1: How does it happen? Where does it start? A twitch in your gut, a flutter in your heart, And there’s no going back. You’re always a part Of the danger. She might be somebody you talk to every day, Or she might live thousands of miles away, She could be your best friend, but when you feel this way, She’s a stranger. And you want to know everything there is to know, Where she’ll be, who she’ll see, what she’ll think, where she’ll go, But there’s too much you have to imagine, and so She’s the stranger. VERSE 2: You think about her. You smile every day. You exist in a blur. You get carried away. But something is standing right smack in the way Of the stranger. There’s a line you can’t cross and a wall you can’t break, It’s not like it’s hard, but that’s some risk to take. You’ve been down this road, and it leads to heartache, That’s the danger. And what if things don’t go as you might have planned? What if she’s someone you can’t understand? Could it actually work, or should you just stay and Be the stranger? BRIDGE: There’s a part of her you’re always dying to see, So you can imagine her more complexly. But if that ever happened, she’d no longer be The stranger. VERSE 3: It’s not as if you feel intense pain and strife. Or like someone has cut out your heart with a knife, It’s just quiet resignation, disappointment, and life Getting stranger. But try as you might, you just can’t see it through. There are too many obstacles between her and you. And though something inside tells you she likes you, too, She’s a stranger. And throughout your whole life, there’s one thing you’ve learnt: If you try to reach out, then you’re sure to get burnt. So you just sit and think about life if she weren’t The stranger. TAG: This may not be the way you want this song to end. You may wish for some happy resolution I’ve penned. But I’m sorry, the story’s never over, my friend. There’s always a stranger.

VERSE 1 Sometimes the world sucks, and that’s a fact. I’m sorry to say it with so little tact, But it’s honestly the way I feel, It’s the way it is, and we just have to deal. Now you might be saying, “Matt, I know this well, Why would you sing about this . . . what the hell?” It’s ‘cause I believe that things won’t always suck, Whether through God, or fate, or just good luck. Sometimes we have to suffer before we can move, Sometimes things have to crappy before they can improve. We have to take the bad along with the good, But let this be understood: CHORUS 1 It gets better. And I know that it will. Keep on fighting, though right now the battle’s all uphill, It gets better, Though I don’t know how, And I know that’s not much consolation right now, ‘Cause you might be feeling that there’s no hope, As you try to slough your way up that slippery slope, And the rain falls down and the world gets wetter, But it gets better, It gets better! VERSE 2 Throughout our history, there have been men And women who’ve predicted, again and again, “Repent! It is coming, the end is near!” But the moment passed . . . and we’re still here! The world grows dismal and dark and cold, But it’s part of a cycle--or so I’m told-- And it’s not an accident, I feel, That human beings were made to heal. So though your cause seems hopeless and adversary strong, And though your fight’s an old one and the battle is long, Don’t ever stop believing that things can improve, As the so often do. CHORUS 2 It gets better. And I know that it can. All it takes are a few people who are willing to stand. It gets better. Everything will be fine. Everyone has faith in something, and this is mine. That winter thaws and the night will end, The clouds will clear away and wounds will mend, And the sun comes up and sky gets redder, And it gets better. BRIDGE Our past is full of ignorance, despair, and hate, And it seems we’re in that rut again, as of late. But we are more enlightened now than we were then, And we will be yet again. CHORUS 3 It gets better. I know, life’s not fair, It’s a fact of the world, but do not despair, It gets better. Get up off your butt, Because that’s the only way to escape this rut. If we all give up, then we’re truly beat, And the bastards have won. So pick up your feet, And don’t let disillusionment be your fetter, ‘Cause it gets better, CHORUS 4 It gets better. And what else can I say, Except that I know things won’t always be this way. It gets better, You can make that real, Because life goes on, and the world will heal. But you have to not give up the fight, And keep your eyes focused on that glimmer of light, I don’t know any way I can say it better Than it gets better . . . It gets better.