HOW IS HE 
ONE OF THE LUCKY ONES? 
A POET LOVED 
BEFORE HE IS DEAD? 
DO I CHANGE MY NAME 
OR JUST WAIT TO DIE? 
WHY AM I SCRAPING BY?

I SHOULD BE 
ONE OF THE ANCIENT ONES, 
MEN WHO LIVE 
BEYOND THEIR OWN AGE. 
IMMORTAL AS STONE. 
AS YET, I AM UNKNOWN.

I CAN PAINT THE SUNRISE WITH A SINGLE WORD. 
‘Sunrise.’
AND SUDDENLY, YOU SEE MARIGOLD AND ROSE. 
THERE’S BEAUTY ON THE PAGE, IF YOU ONLY SQUINT. 
ALAN SEEGER IS A MASTER OF VERSE AND PROSE! 

YOU FEEL ETERNAL FORCES 
IN MY RHYME. 
WE’RE ALL ETERNAL FORCES 
TRAPPED BY TIME. 
IT'S MY TIME. 
BUT MY TIME IS 
MOVING, 
RACING, 
FLYING.

I WOULD BE
ONE OF THE LUCKY ONES 
IF THE WORLD 
WOULD ONLY STAND STILL. 
THEY APPLAUD THE NEW, 
AND I UPHOLD THE GREAT. 
I’M BOTH YOUNG AND OUT-OF-DATE.

I COULD BE 
ONE OF THE USEFUL ONES. 
I COULD SERVE 
WITH ONLY MY PEN. 
BUT I’LL NEVER BE READ
‘TIL I’M THIRTY. OR DEAD.

BUT I’VE SEEN THE SUNRISE OVER NOTRE-DAME 
PAINT GOLD ALONG THE RIPPLES ON THE SEINE. 
AND THE STAINED-GLASS WINDOWS SHIMMER IN RESPONSE 
AND CHASE THE CLOUDS WITH EMERALD AND AZURE AND THEN 
I KNOW IMMORTAL WORDS!
I KNOW I'M HOME! 
BUT THESE ARE USELESS WORDS 
BECAUSE MY HOME IS 
STIRRING, 
SHIFTING,
SIGHING!

I CAN SEE THE SUNSET STEAL ACROSS THE RHINE, 
SHADOWED BY A DARKNESS THAT DESCENDS. 
AND EVERY MAN I KNOW IS RUSHING OUT, 
EAGER TO EMBRACE WHAT FATE PORTENDS.
I'M NOT MOVING ON, 
I'M HOLDING FAST. 
ONE DAY I'LL MOVE ON, 
WHEN I'M AT LAST
ONE OF THE LUCKY ONES 
ONE OF THE LUCKY ONES 
WHO'S READ BY MORE THAN – 
HIS MOM!


Lucky Ones

INTO THE LIGHT 
I WALK, NO FEAR. 
SHADOWS ARE GATH’RING, 
STILL YOU DRAW ME NEAR.

INTO THE LIGHT. 
AM I ALONE? 
SHINE FOR THE LOST
ONE AND LEAD HIM HOME.

DOUBT NOT THY PATH, 
MY WAND’RING SON. 
ALL STEPS ARE DESTINED; 
ALL OUR BATTLES WON.

FATHERS FORGIVE 
THE BRAVE AND BOLD 
GUARDIANS OF STARLIGHT 
WHO NEVER GROW OLD.

TIME TO BEGIN, MY SON. 
ALTER YOUR COURSE, MY SON.
WHAT WILL YOU GIVE, MY SON, 
WITH FUTURE GRIM AND PAST UNDONE?

STORMS CLOUD THE DAY, 
SHADOWS BLACK THE DAWN. 
FATHERS HOLD FAST TO TIME; 
TIME MARCHES ON.

DIM THOUGH THE LIGHT,
THY PATH IS KNOWN. 
FIGHT FOR HER SPLENDOR, 
POET-DEFENDER.
SOLDIER, ASCEND THROUGH THE NIGHT 
INTO THE LIGHT!

FOR THERE, IN LIGHT, YOU’RE NOT ALONE.
INTO THE LIGHT. YOU’RE NOT ALONE.
INTO THE LIGHT. YOU’RE NOT ALONE.


Into The Light

MARIELLE:
‘QUAND L’AMOUR EST VRAI 
QU’IL VALSE SUR UNE ETOILE...‘

ALAN: (Beat.) What?

MARIELLE: 
COME TO THE WINDOW, ALAN. 
DO YOU SEE ALL THOSE OTHER WINDOWS 
GLOWING GOLD IN THE GASLIGHT 
AND THOSE PEOPLE ALL SITTING INSIDE? 
IN PARIS WE LIVE ON STARS, ALAN. 
THAT’S US, ALAN. THAT’S US. 
WHEN WE SIT IN OUR RECTANGLE WINDOW OF GOLD, 
WE’RE REALLY ON A STAR.

STARLIGHT, 
ILLUMINATE THE SPACE AROUND THE LOVERS WHO WRITE. 
ALL THEY DREAM IS ALL THEY ARE, 
NEIGHBORS ON A STAR.

ALAN: 
(In his head.) SHE IS A SPLENDOR, 
FLAMELIKE, BORN TO BE PURSUED, 
WITH EYES INCENSED WITH LOVE FOR ALL THEY SEE. 
SHE IS A WONDER, 
MORE TO BE ADORED THAN WOOED. 
EVERY LITTLE THING SHE DOES FEELS LIKE ENCHANTMENT; 
SOMETHING TO KEEP ALIVE 
IN THIS, OUR LATTER AGE. 
RELICS OF A ROMANTIC TASTE GONE BY, 
SHE AND I.

MARIELLE: 
LOOK THROUGH THE WINDOW, ALAN. 
THERE IS PAIN, 
WAR AND PAIN! 
NOTHING CAN BRUISE US, 
IF WE BUT CHOOSE TO SEE GOLD, 
THE WORLD’S MADE OF GOLD! 
IT’S GOLD IF WE PAINT IT.

GASLIGHT, 
ELIMINATE ALL TRACE OF WHO WE SHOULD BE TONIGHT. 
WE ARE ONLY WHO WE ARE, 
NEIGHBORS ON A STAR.

ALAN: 
(In his head.) LOVE! 
TIS THE PAYMENT OF THE DEBT 
WE OWE THE BEAUTY OF THE WORLD. 
GOD KNOWS ‘TIS BETTER 
TO BE DEEP-PILLOWED IN SILK AND SCENTED DOWN 
WHERE LOVE THROBS OUT IN BLISSFUL SLEEP, 
WHEN THE WILL TO LOVE 
AND BE BELOVED CASTS OUT 
THE WANT TO QUESTION 
OR THE WILL TO DOUBT.

I DON’T WANT TO QUESTION. 
I’VE NO WILL TO DOUBT.

MARIELLE: 
LIE HERE, 
LIE TO ME OF PARIS AND OF WORLDS WITHOUT NIGHT. 
LIE WITH ME AND DIM THE LIGHT.

OOOO.... 

ALAN: 
MMM....

MARIELLE:
NEIGHBORS ON A STAR.


Moving On

MADAME D: No you’re not, you’re getting on that train with me, and we’re going to put this out of our heads -- .

ALAN: I’m not going, Aunt D -- . 

MADAME D: Enough!!
FIRST YOU WISH TO BE A WRITER, 
DRINKING ABSINTHE MIXED WITH WINE, 
NOW YOU THINK YOU ARE A FIGHTER, 
JOIN THE LEGION, FALL IN LINE.

SO THE WORLD GIVES TO MALFEASANCE, 
AND NOW YOU FEEL YOU MUST CHANGE. 
WELL, TO ME, THE GREATEST DEFENSE 
IS JUST STAYING OUT OF RANGE.

SO BON SOIR, A BIENTOT! 
KEEP THE CAR AS A MEMENTO! 
YOU’LL BE SPARRING IN A TENT, 
THOUGH, WHO KNOWS WHAT YOU’RE FIGHTING FOR.

MARC WENT BACK TO RUSSIA, 
MARIELLE IS NOW A NURSE. S
OON WE’LL ALL BE SPANKED BY PRUSSIA, 
AND WE’LL ALL BE IN A HEARSE.

ARMAND’S MURDERED BY AN ARMY, 
SO NOW YOU STEP IN THE BREACH? 
YOU’RE ALL ACTING SO BIZARRE, ME, 
I AM HEADING TO THE BEACH!

JE M’EN VAIS, A LA PROCHAINE, 
WHILE THE FRAY KEEPS ON APPROACHIN’, 
MARK THIS DAY WITH YOUR REPROACH, THEN
THINK WHAT YOU ARE FIGHTING FOR. 
WHAT YOU ARE FIGHTING FOR! 
WHAT ARE YOU FIGHTING FOR?!

ALAN: How dare I not do everything I can? How can I stay here, and -- . 

MADAME D: You’re not staying, Alan. 

ALAN: I am staying and I am defending my home to the death! 

MADAME D: Your home better have purple mountain majesty and a Coney Island corndog!
TIME TO FLY, MY DEAR. 
SAY NO MORE BUT SAY GOODBYE, MY DEAR. 
HALF OF EUROPE’S REARRANGED. 
PASSAGE HOME CAN’T BE EXCHANGED.
ARE YOU LOOKING TO DIE, MY DEAR?

WHAT’S THE SENSE OF WAR?! 
KILL A MIL TO MOVE A FENCE NEXT DOOR? 
THE LOSS OF YOU WOULD BE THE DEATH OF ME. 
ALAN, COME WITH ME!

ALAN: Aunt D. Please.

MADAME D: 
YOU ARE TOO ROMANTIC, 
DO YOU NOT REALIZE THE COST? 
THAT THE SITUATION’S FRANTIC, 
THAT YOUR NOBLE CAUSE IS LOST?

IF THAT SKULL WERE ANY WISER, 
YOU WOULD FLEE, BUT SHOULD YOU NOT, 
REST ASSURED, IT’S NOT THE KAISER, 
BUT YOUR AUNT WHO’LL TAKE A SHOT!

JE ME CASSE! SEE YOU LATER! 
GET MY ASS TO THE EQUATOR! 
GO HARASS YOUR NEW INVADER,
ASK HIM WHAT HE’S FIGHTING FOR.

IT’S BEEN GRAND, BUT GOTTA RUN DOWN, 
TO A SANDY, BEACHY SUN-TOWN. 
JUST KEEP STANDING TILL YOU’RE GUNNED DOWN, 
YOU’LL KNOW WHAT YOU’RE FIGHTING FOR. 
WHO KNOWS WHAT YOU’RE FIGHTING FOR?
TELL ME WHAT YOU’RE FIGHTING FOR!!!


What You're Fighting For

The Taliban falls. Music returns to Kabul. 

Iphis' mother listens as she hears music in the streets for the first time in 5 years. The Taliban is gone. But with the music came American bombs, which thunder threateningly all around. She walks without the protection of a burqa, listening to the bombs and music of sola - peace.

Sola (The Body Politic)

YOUNG IPHIS/IPHIS: Chris...Chris...
YOUNG IPHIS: Me? America? Am I souvenir for when you leave?
What is the meaning of a man? 
What’s the meaning of a man? 
What is the meaning of a man? I know.
I knew who I was far before you came. Before your war.
Now they say I can’t be who I am After I was raised a son!
Now you say you see me as I am.
Now you say you’ll raise me as a son!
Family, my family, the family means more than — Me.
I can’t choose ‘Me’.
Now I’m to marry to have a son. I’m not a womb. I am a son. Every family wants a son.
Why do they not want their son?
IPHIS/YOUNG IPHIS: (To himself.) ’Me’... American — ‘Me’...
YOUNG IPHIS: What is the meaning of your flag, 
And the flag that came before,
And the flag that came before?
And the flag that will come next?
With every flag,
The entire system of law changes. You’re always passing laws.
Our laws are always passing.
The one constant is tradition.
A tribal, family, tradition.
It is not the Taliban.
It is not the mujahideen. If you’re a girl,
They’re all the same.
In many ways,
You’re all the same.
IPHIS/YOUNG IPHIS: What is the meaning of a man?
What’s the meaning of a flag? 
What is the meaning of America?
Chris! Chris!
I, I don’t want to leave my home.
IPHIS: If I go...
YOUNG IPHIS: Can a new body be obtained?
IPHIS: If I go...
YOUNG IPHIS: Will I find you’ve had me re-
chained? 
IPHIS: If you go...
YOUNG IPHIS: How will this war be explained? 
IPHIS: Liberation,
YOUNG IPHIS: Or revenge? But if I don’t leave with you 
They’ll leave me to
Tradition.
You? Me?
IPHIS: What is the meaning of a man? 
YOUNG IPHIS: We’ll be?
IPHIS: What is the meaning of a flag? 
YOUNG IPHIS: Family?
IPHIS: I know the meaning of a man.


What Is The Meaning?

(Scene: The Taliban has fallen, music has returned to Afghanistan, but with it come the American bombs)("Sola" translation, Pashto for Peace)

MOTHER: Music?
VOICES OUTSIDE (MOTHER): 
Sola, Sola, Sola. 
Sola, Sola, Sola.
Sola, Sola, Sola. (Music...)
Sola, Sola, Sola.
Sola, Sola, Sola. (I hear music...)
Sola. (And bombs.)
Sola! Sola! Sola! Sola! (Bombs, but music.) 
Sola! (Bombs, but music.)
Sola! (Bombs)
Sola! (But)
Sola! (Music!)



Sola Chorus

IPHIS: Chapel Hill gets lonely When you do not go to the school. When you're a townie,
And an immigrant.
When you're local, But not native. When you're a man.
When you're not — a man.
When the closest man to you
Is more of a woman than you ever were,
But more of a man in their eyes.
Chapel Hill gets lonely
When you don't wear Tar Heel blue.
It’s a kingfisher kingdom,
White-throats and blue.
White throats and you.
The color of my skin
Makes me a threat.
The stubble growing in
Makes grown men sweat.
A “Muslim” in the Bible Belt.
A “bull dyke” (grabbing crotch.) with aspirations. I don’t know what scares them more.
At home I was a man because I had to be a man. Here I’m something Different: watched, and alone! Watched and alone!
America is lonely.
It’s the promise of the Self.
There’s no Family,
No Community.
They are stones for
Stepping over.
Three hundred million Selves:
They are free, but they’re alone.
Am I free? Am I alone?
Chapel Hill gets lonely!
America gets lonely!
Everywhere gets lonely
When you don’t fly with the flock.

The Body Politic LIVE

Chapel Hill Gets Lonely

I don't need a hobby. 
I've got too much going on in my nest. 
I don't need distractions.
 I've got too many of those in my day. 

I just need a barn. 
I just need my son.
 I just need some 
Peace and a picket fence.
 And a golden lab named Fred. 

We don't need remembrance. 
He weighs too much as it is on our hearts. 
We don't need another. 
We have too many to house in our home. 

We just need ourselves! 
We just need our own! 
We just need our 
Peace and a picket fence. 
Peace and a picket fence. 
And freedom! 

Freedom from the past. 
Freedom from the pain. 
Freedom from every reminder 
Of all that we lost 
Beyond the photograph I keep 
Right next to your flag. 
I only have a photo and your flag. 
That’s all I have. 
That’s all I need.
 I only need... 

Peace and a picket fence. 
Peace and a picket fence... 
And a tennis ball for Fred.

Peace and a Picket Fence

Musical Theatre and Opera songwriters. Paris Through the Window, The Body Politic, and more. www.hurleyandosborne.com

Hurley & Osborne

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