Songs from a Forgotten Rock Opera (1977)

Too great her beauty! 'tis o'erwhelming;
Beneath that mask there's such dissembling:
Yes, I would have her ugly — quite —
I'd have her — yes, a perfect fright
Love her I must in beauty's bloom —
O Heaven, thy wondrous gift resume!
Even from below assistance would I claim;
So she were ugly, and my love the same

Lo! Satan at the word I see —
The sire of ugliness is he:
" Come, come, " he cries, " I'll hideous make her;
Thy fiercest rivals shall forsake her:
Changes I'm rather fond of ringing —
But here thy fair one comes, and singing!
Roses, decay! pearls, drop from out your frame!
She's ugly now, and still thy love's the same! "

" I ugly! " thunderstruck she cries,
And promptly to a mirror flies:
At first she doubts — at last, o'ercome
With terror and despair, is dumb
" I've heard thee swear I was thine all, "
Quoth I, as at her feet I fall:
" To me alone he would devote thy flame;
If uglier still, I'd love thee just the same "

Her eyes bedimmed in tear-drops melt:
What pity for her grief I felt!
" Ah! give her back her charms so winning! "
" So be it, " answers Satan, grinning.
At once, like morning freshly breaking,
I saw fresh beauties in her waking;
More striking still her loveliness became,
More striking still, and still my love the same.

Quick at the mirror her alarms
She quiets — safe are all her charms —
Though on her cheeks some tears I spy,
Grumbling aside, she wipes them dry:
And then, as Satan flits away,
The traitress, too, but stops to say,
" Since Heaven gives beauty, to love him were shame,
Who, fair or foul, still loves us just the same. "

Too Great Her Beauty

"Like every rose has its thorns,
Every devil has its horns…
So the old wives sigh—
But let’s dig deeper, love.
Let’s lie."

(Pizzicato strings mimic falling petals.)

[VERSE 1: CHORUS] (whispering townsfolk)
"In fair Verona? No, not them—
This tale’s too hot for ink and pen.
The Lover screamed, the Beauty fought…
History burns what gossip bought."

[VERSE 2: BARD] (whispering, conspiratorial)
"Oh, you’ve heard whispers—‘Beast’ and ‘rose’—
Some fable ‘bout a girl who chose
To love a monster…
How quaint.
But what if Beauty
was the saint,
And the ‘Beast’ just some poor fool,
Who traded time to play love’s tool?
The facts got stewed, the truth went sour…
Here’s the thorn beneath the flower."

[MOTIF: THE MARKET] (lively mandolin)
(BARD snaps fingers. Vendors freeze mid-sale.)
"Here’s where it starts—a smirk, a glance,
A rose tossed down in mock romance…
(Minor chord—the rose wilts.)
But this time, see the thorns bite deep—
This time, the Beauty doesn’t weep."*

[MOTIF: THE DEVIL’S WALTZ] (sinister cello)
(BARD dons a horned mask. The orchestra twists.)
"Enter our real star, slick with jest—
He doesn’t want souls…
…he wants the jest."

[VERSE 2: BARD & CHORUS] (building frenzy)
"You think you know how love turns pale?
Wait till you see true hearts fail!
Not poison’s kiss, not family creed—
But time’s own claws,
And love’s own need!"

[CLIMAX: THE FALL] (orchestra collapses into silence)
(BARD tears a page—the sound rips like a scream.)
"So toss the Bard’s old book aside…
This tale’s alive.
And hungry inside."

(Blackout. A single rose ignites in the dark.)

The Thorn Beneath The Flower

[VERSE 1: LOVER] (charmed, offering a rose)
"A bloom for the bloom at the spice-merchant’s stall—
Though it’s frail next to you, and not half as tall."
(Beat. She eyes the rose, then him, wary but amused.)

[VERSE 2: BEAUTY] (teasing, plucking a petal)
"How sweet, sir—but see how this petal lets go?
Beauty’s the same: here today…
…then it goes." (She blows it away.)

[PRE-CHORUS: LOVER] (stepping closer)
"Then let’s speak of what doesn’t decay—
Like the way you just laughed when I tripped on the tray…
*Like the crinkle here—" (taps her nose) —when you’re fighting a smile.
Those won’t fade,
Not in a hundred years’ time."

[CHORUS: BOTH] (harmonizing as the market fades)
Oh, love, let the roses all wither in May—
Let the mirrors grow dusty, the silver betray.
You’ll still be my sunrise,
I’ll still be your storm…
Perfect’s the heart
That remembers your form.

[BRIDGE: BEAUTY] (soft, surrendering)
"What if my hair turns to moonlight?"
(LOVER, kissing her hand:) "I’ll love how it scatters the breeze."
"What if my hands forget their grace?"
(LOVER, spinning her:) "Mine will remember for these."

[FINAL CHORUS: BOTH] (running into a garden)
Now let the world call us fools in the dark—
Let them measure our love by the bloom, not the bark.
(They kiss; roses cascade.)
For roots grow deeper
Than petals show…
And this is the beauty
That no one can know.

A Bloom for A Bloom

[VERSE 1: DEVIL] (smooth, circling the Lover)
"See how the candle gilds her hair?
That gold could stay… if you dare.
One soul—one kiss of my flame—
And time forgets her name…"

(LOVER stares up at BEAUTY, who smiles unaware, running a comb through her hair.)

[VERSE 2: LOVER] (entranced, desperate)
"Let the stars stall in their tracks—
Let no frost bite her flax!
Take my heart, take my breath…
Just spare her from death."

(He grips the Devil’s hand. A thunderclap. BEAUTY’s comb snags—
—her hair turns silver. Her face creases. She gasps, clutching her throat.)

[CHORUS: BEAUTY] (raw, cracking mid-note)
What’s this weight in my bones?!
What’s this dust in my— (voice breaks)—lo-ove?
(She staggers; her reflection in the window is ancient.)

[BRIDGE: DEVIL] (licking the Lover’s ear)
"Oh, you fool—time’s not a stream.
It’s a noose. And now it’s…
(snaps fingers)
…tight."

(BEAUTY collapses to her knees upstairs as the Lover screams.)

[FINAL CHORUS: LOVER & BEAUTY] (intercut, shattered)
(LOVER:) I swore to love you past the end—
(BEAUTY:) Then why do I feel finished, then?
(LOVER:) Forgive me—
(BEAUTY:) —Was I not enough?
(DEVIL laughs as their voices twist into a grotesque waltz.)

[CODA: DEVIL SOLO] (cheerful, exit-music vile)
"Now every dawn’s a funeral bell!
But hey—at least she’ll never tell…
That you stole the one thing she owned:
The right to grow…
…alone."

(Vanishes. BEAUTY’s candle snuffs out. Blackout.)

Spare Her

[VERSE 1]
Beware the face too brightly spun,
The smile that steals the waking sun—
For beauty’s blade cuts swift and deep,
Where fools and saints alike will weep.
Oh, cursed gift! Oh, gilded chain!
To love her is to court your pain…

[CHORUS]
So let the roses choke with thorns,
Let every mirror crack with scorn!
Or else be doomed to chase the flame—
Her heart won’t love you
…just the same.

[VERSE 2]
(Enter the Lover, desperate, to the Shadows:)
"Then make her monstrous! Make her plain!
Let rot her cheek’s perfumed stain—
If ugliness could bind her tight,
I’d trade the moon for one foul night!"

[BRIDGE]
(The Shadows laugh, low and cruel:)
"We’ll twist the flesh… but not the rules—
For love that’s real won’t barter light,
Nor fear the dark…
…nor fear the sight."

[FINAL CHORUS]
So pray the stars forget your name,
Or love her true through blight or flame—
For hell or heaven, both agree:
The curse was never
…beauty’s plea.

Let The Rose Choke With Thorns

VERSE 1: BEAUTY] (whispered, trembling)
The market’s loud, but I’m a ghost in gray—
Hood pulled tight where the petals lay.
You found me here where the cherries weep,
But touch my hand, and you’ll reap what you keep.

[VERSE 2: LOVER] (gentle, confused)
“What’s this storm in your April eyes?
Is it wrinkles you fear, or the devil’s lies?”
I reach for you, but you shove me back—
Like a rose denies the sun it lacks.

[PRE-CHORUS: BEAUTY] (anguished)
“You fool—he took you! Don’t you see?
Your soul’s the cost for this rotten tree!
I’d trade my breath to undo that night…
But Hell won’t bargain with second sight.”

[CHORUS: LOVER] (fervent, crescendo)
The devil could scorch both heaven and earth—
But he never touched your light from birth.
These eyes don’t lie, love, they burn the same…
You’re the fire no curse can tame.

(A thunderclap. The Devil materializes, grinning.)

[BRIDGE: DEVIL] (singsong, vicious)
“Tick-tock, loverboy—time’s up, time’s up!
Should’ve read the fine print on our cup.
Now let’s see how eternity fits…
—Oh, and darling?
Thanks for the kiss.”

(Tree branches CRACK. The Lover collapses. Beauty screams.)

[FINAL CHORUS: BEAUTY] (guttural, shattered)
You swore my soul was your guiding spark—
Now Hell’s the hound, and you’re the mark.
I’ll burn this market, I’ll salt this grove…
But the devil laughs with the man I love.

Under The Cherry Tree (Time's Up)

Music Studio, covering any genre, any kind of artist.

Under The Cherry Tree (Time's Up)

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