11. The Powder Room of Broken Hearts

(Verse)
The mirror is weeping a crack down the side
Where the lead dancer keeps all the things that she’s tried to hide
There’s a smell of stale roses and cheap, lilac spray
And a pile of dreams that we’re throwing away
The costumes are tattered, the glitter is grey
But we put on the paint just to keep the dark at bay
Tighten the corset, sharpen the line
If the world’s gonna burn, honey, let’s make it shine.

(Chorus)
Oh, welcome to the powder room of broken hearts
Where we pull out the stitches and we pull apart
The show must go on, even if the stage is made of sand
With a snake in the wings and a drink in your hand
It’s a beautiful ruin, it’s a high-wire crime
Spending your life just to kill all the time.

(Piano Solo)
(A frantic, honky-tonk piano run, tumbling over itself like a performer tripping in heels. The accordion adds a dissonant, carnival-barker layer that twists and turns.)

(Verse)
The strongman is sobbing in the shadow of the door
He’s looking for the dignity he dropped on the floor
The clown’s in the corner, he’s washing his face
Trying to scrub out the grin and the shame of the place
We’re trading our secrets for a bow and a cheer
While the shadows get heavy and the end draws near
But the music is swinging, the rhythm is tight
And we’re just the debris of a neon-lit night.

(Bass Solo)
(The upright bass takes the stage, slapping and walking with a thick, predatory swagger. It’s the sound of someone pacing a cage, deep and resonant, punctuated by the sharp snap of brushed snares.)

(Bridge)
(Tempo increases slightly; the accordion becomes more frantic, almost hysterical.)
The audience is waiting!
The spotlight is a god!
We’re bowing for the ghosts
Who aren’t even looking at the squad!
Smile through the wreckage!
Dance through the decay!
It’s a nickel for your soul
And the devil’s gonna pay!

(Verse)
So pin up your hair and step into the light
We’re the kings and the queens of the shivering night
The curtain is heavy, the velvet is stained
But we’re dancing like lions that have never been chained
Whatever you lost, you can find it in here
In the bottom of a bottle or the edge of a tear
So give us your money, give us your truth
We’re the beautiful thieves of our own wasted youth.

(Outro)
(The music slows down to a crawl. The accordion lets out a long, wheezing sigh. The piano plays a final, single high note that hangs in the air.)
The show’s over, kids.
Pick up your sequins.
The sun’s gonna be here in about an hour.
And it’s just as ugly as the truth.
(Sound of a heavy curtain dropping, followed by the faint click of a door lock.)

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(Spoken Intro) (The sound of a crowd muffled behind a heavy velvet curtain. A match strikes. Someone exhales a long, shimmering cloud of smoke. The piano begins a tipsy, stumbling waltz, accompanied by the wheeze of an accordion.) "Ladies and gentlemen... step into the back, won’t you? Mind the sequins. They’re sharp as a razor’s edge and twice as unforgiving. Tonight’s show? It’s a tragedy in three acts, performed by people who forgot how to cry. Grab a seat. The ghost light’s already on." (Verse) The mirror is weeping a crack down the side Where the lead dancer keeps all the things that she’s tried to hide There’s a smell of stale roses and cheap, lilac spray And a pile of dreams that we’re throwing away The costumes are tattered, the glitter is grey But we put on the paint just to keep the dark at bay Tighten the corset, sharpen the line If the world’s gonna burn, honey, let’s make it shine. (Chorus) Oh, welcome to the powder room of broken hearts Where we pull out the stitches and we pull apart The show must go on, even if the stage is made of sand With a snake in the wings and a drink in your hand It’s a beautiful ruin, it’s a high-wire crime Spending your life just to kill all the time. (Piano Solo) (A frantic, honky-tonk piano run, tumbling over itself like a performer tripping in heels. The accordion adds a dissonant, carnival-barker layer that twists and turns.) (Verse) The strongman is sobbing in the shadow of the door He’s looking for the dignity he dropped on the floor The clown’s in the corner, he’s washing his face Trying to scrub out the grin and the shame of the place We’re trading our secrets for a bow and a cheer While the shadows get heavy and the end draws near But the music is swinging, the rhythm is tight And we’re just the debris of a neon-lit night. (Chorus) Oh, welcome to the powder room of broken hearts Where we pull out the stitches and we pull apart The show must go on, even if the stage is made of sand With a snake in the wings and a drink in your hand It’s a beautiful ruin, it’s a high-wire crime Spending your life just to kill all the time. (Bass Solo) (The upright bass takes the stage, slapping and walking with a thick, predatory swagger. It’s the sound of someone pacing a cage, deep and resonant, punctuated by the sharp snap of brushed snares.) (Bridge) (Tempo increases slightly; the accordion becomes more frantic, almost hysterical.) The audience is waiting! The spotlight is a god! We’re bowing for the ghosts Who aren’t even looking at the squad! Smile through the wreckage! Dance through the decay! It’s a nickel for your soul And the devil’s gonna pay! (Verse) So pin up your hair and step into the light We’re the kings and the queens of the shivering night The curtain is heavy, the velvet is stained But we’re dancing like lions that have never been chained Whatever you lost, you can find it in here In the bottom of a bottle or the edge of a tear So give us your money, give us your truth We’re the beautiful thieves of our own wasted youth. (Chorus) Oh, welcome to the powder room of broken hearts Where we pull out the stitches and we pull apart The show must go on, even if the stage is made of sand With a snake in the wings and a drink in your hand It’s a beautiful ruin, it’s a high-wire crime Spending your life just to kill all the time. (Outro) (The music slows down to a crawl. The accordion lets out a long, wheezing sigh. The piano plays a final, single high note that hangs in the air.) The show’s over, kids. Pick up your sequins. The sun’s gonna be here in about an hour. And it’s just as ugly as the truth. (Sound of a heavy curtain dropping, followed by the faint click of a door lock.)

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