Scene 1: The Garage
We open on an auto shop in South Minneapolis. It's 6 a.m., fluorescent lights flicker above oil-slick concrete. Our protagonist - still known only by her deadname — clocked in like she has every day for years. Her coworkers crack jokes. She laughs along, voice lowered, body stiff. Her real self is buried beneath layers of grime, steel-toed boots, and practiced masculinity.

🎵 SONG 1: "Uptown Locker Room"
The daily performance of masculinity feels like suffocation. She hides her femininity beneath grease-stained uniforms and unspoken shame.

Uptown Locker Room

We all need a lil bitty Country Rave/House Music

Jolene 2.0

Raves in Low Places

Lil' Bitty Rave

Blade Dance Protocol

Dorada

Sí!

Sublime Gracia

Pequeñas Cosas

LYRICS:

I walk in with a stack of dreams and a marker in my hand
Coffee cold, lesson plans like battle maps I drew in pen
You slam your chair, roll your eyes, throw your gaze at the wall
Headphones in like you never hear anyone at all (hello)

I tried soft words, I tried that joke
I let some things slide till the rules all broke
You keep pushing lines that you know you crossed
Acting like your future could never get lost (wake up)

"Holy fucking god, will you just fucking do your job"
Is it really that hard to try?
Sit the hell down, shut up and write
I am not your enemy, I am on your side
But holy fucking god, will you just fucking do your job
Before the bell rings on your life (pay attention)
will you just fucking do your job

You say this is stupid, that you will never use this shit
Scroll your phone like the world is just a screen that never quits
But I see the way your eyes light up when you almost get it right
Then you laugh it off, throw it out, pick another stupid fight (why?)

I have stayed late, I have called home
Graded your blanks till I walked out alone
You keep playing cool like you do not care
But I know damn well there is a real kid there (I see you)

"Holy fucking god, will you just fucking do your job"
Is it really that hard to try?
Sit the hell down, shut up and write
I am not your punishment, I am your invite
So holy fucking god, will you just fucking do your job
Before the bell rings on your life (on your life)
will you just fucking do your job

I am not here to break you
I am here to break the chains
That tell you you are nothing
That your effort is all in vain
I am yelling cause I care more
Than the world out past that door
If you give me thirty minutes
I can help you want it more (come on)

"Holy fucking god will you just fucking do your job"
"Sit down, shut up, write it out"
"Holy fucking god will you just fucking do your job"
"You can, you will, no doubt" (no doubt)

"Holy fucking god, will you just fucking do your job"
Is it really that hard to try?
Plant your feet, pick up that pen
You are not your last mistake, you can start again
So holy fucking god, will you just fucking do your job
Before the bell rings on your life (last chance)
will you just fucking do your job

Holy fucking god, will you just fucking do your job (do your job)
One small page can change your mind (change your mind)
Sit the hell down, shut up and learn
Every single line is a bridge you burn or earn
So holy fucking god, will you just fucking do your job
Before the bell rings on your life
will you just fucking do your job

I swear I am rooting for you, kid
Now pick up the damn pencil.

Holy F*cking God (will you just f*cking do your job)

What Child is This

I'm just a songwriter, standing in front of a computer, asking it to sing my heart out. Welcome to my world where I weave words into lyrics and let technology bring them to life.

What Child is This

Nicholas Wells