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How do you document real life, when real life's getting more like fiction each day?
Headlines, breadlines blow my mind and now this deadline, "Eviction or pay".
Rent!
How do you write a song when the chords sound wrong, though they once sounded right and rare?
When the notes are sour, where is the power you once had to ignite the air.
And we're hungry and frozen,
the life that we've chosen.
How we gonna pay,
how we gonna pay?
How we gonna pay last year's rent?
We light candles.
How do you start a fire when there's nothing to burn and it feels like something's stuck in your flue?
How can you generate heat when you can't feel your feet,
and they're turning blue!
You light up a mean blaze with posters and screenplays.
How we gonna pay, how we gonna pay?
How we gonna pay last year's rent?
Don't screamn, Maureen, it's me, Joanne, your substitute production manager, hey hey hey!
Did you eat?
Don't change the subject, Maureen.
But darling, you haven't eaten all day.
You won't throw up, you won't throw up!
The digital delay didn't blow up, exactly.
There might have been one teeny tiny spark.
You're not calling Mark.
How do you stay on your feet when on every street it's trick or treat,
and tonight, it's trick.
Welcome back to town, I should lay down.
Everything's brown, uh oh, I feel sick.
Where is he?
Gettin' dizzy.
How we gonna pay, how we gonna pay?
How we gonna pay last year's rent?
Alison, baby, you sound sad.
I don't believe those two after everything I've done.
Ever since our wedding, I'm dirt.
They'll see, I can help them all out in the long run.
The music ignites the night with passion and fire.
Maureen, I'm not a theater person.
The narration crackles and pops with incindiary wit.
Could never be a theater person.
Zoom in as they burn their past to the ground,
and feel the heat of the future's glow.
Hello, Maureen?
Your equipment won't work?
Okay, alright, I'll go.
How do you leave the past behind, when it keeps finding ways to get to your heart?
It reaches way down deep and tears you inside out, 'til you're torn apart, rent!
How can you connect in an age where strangers, landlords, lovers, you're own blood cells betray?
What binds the fabric together when the raging, shifting winds of change keep ripping away?
Draw a line in the sand, and then make a stand.
Use your camera to spar, use your guitar.
When they act tough you call their bluff.
We're not gonna pay, we're not gonna pay.
We're not gonna pay last year's rent.
This year's rent, next year's rent.
Rent rent rent, rent!
We're not gonna pay rent.
'Cause everything is rent!

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