I feel pretty good about this one. I’m not going to sing it for you today - unless I miraculously learn how to play the guitar (doubtful). My changed lines are in italics.
Before you read on, I feel like I need to say something about perfect rhymes. I’ve been thinking about them a lot because this song both begs for them and also eschews them if they aren’t precisely what you mean. So I’ve definitely struck a bit of a deal with them - borrowing from pop, country, folk, and musical theater to figure out what to do where. But as I thought about these things and did my research, I’ve come to the conclusion that perfect rhymes are having a resurgence. Surprising, I know. Nothing ever seemed more lame or unlikely until lyrics became virtually unmemorizable and rap reclaimed rhyme’s significance. In addition to the rappers (too many to mention but Eminem and Blackalicious still being among some of my favorites for clever - without sacrificing meaning for the sake of - rhyme), the popularity of Fiona Apple, Regina Spektor, and new to my itunes line up Vampire Weekend (thanks Rachel Lowdermilk!) all mark a significant upswing in real rhyming’s trendiness. Of course, none of these writers act like hall monitors on the subject. We musical theater writers still have that all to ourselves - remarkably we act like narcs about it whether pro or con.
Now, back to the previously scheduled reveal of new lyrics! I think this is really fun to sing Brian’s melody. We will, of course, test drive sometime this week.
How to Return Home
Your bare feet sliding on the old wooden floorboards,
Home just as you left it but still you’re shaken,
like walking into a museum somehow out of time.
It’s all the same except the girl in the hallway,
Where she’s been and who she will ripen into,
Your childhood’s on the other side of a sprawling divide… too wide.
Take silent breath.
Hold in the change.
Tell yourself you still live here.
Take your bags upstairs.
It’s the only way
you’ll get through today.
Count the hours.
Take a shower.
Wash yourself away.
The house is pulsing with an alien heartbeat,
Was it always here but you never listened?
It’s calling you to be the girl that you were way back then… again.
Take a silent breath.
Hold in the change.
Tell yourself you still live here.
Take your bags upstairs.
Put away your clothes, take it nice and slow.
Be their daughter.
Nothing’s harder
when nobody knows
How to return home,
and how to survive,
There’s no written guidelines.
How to go back,
How to show up and unpack.
How to show up.
How to grow up.
How to take a breath.
Take a silent breath.
Hold in the change.
Tell yourself you still live here.
Take your bags upstairs.
You still share a name
But you’re not the same.
You don’t fight now.
You don’t hide now.
It’s a whole new way of how to return home.*
How to return home.
How to return home.
Your bare feet sliding on the old wooden floorboards,
home just as you left it but still you’re shaken.
*I originally had “It’s a whole new game. How to return home.” Which I’m pretty sure I don’t like but sometimes I get something right and then go straight past it. This adds a pick up before the “how” but I think the meaning is much better and it’s a little less played out / more unexpected and leads to a better conclusion for the song. The only other thing that I tried and rejected is replacing “Take a shower. Wash yourself away.” with “Only hours. Teach yourself to pray.”
Thoughts?
