To Write or Not to Write

male vocals, English male vocals, british male vocals, neoclassical, orchestral rock, symphonic rock, baroque pop, energetic, show tune, musical

V3.5

(Pre-Chorus – Shakespeare, pacing - Quicker, more frantic)
What a piece of work is a man! So cunning, yet confounded!
I grasp at words—like fleeting ghosts—they vanish, leave me grounded!
The play’s the thing, or so they say, but what if I should blunder?
Shall I take quill against this sea of doubts or let my mind go under?

(Chorus – Shakespeare becomes Hamlet - Grand and soaring)
To write or not to write—that is the question!
To toil away or cast this wretched script aside?
Dost art reflect the world—or dost the world reflect our art?
And if I write, shall I become the soul within my part?

(Verse 2 – Shakespeare fully descends into Hamlet’s mind - More manic, dramatic underscoring)
Alas, poor Yorick!—but wait, he’s yet unmade!
A skull upon the page, yet my ink spills naught but shade!
The lady doth protest too much, methinks—but why?
And is my madness fiction, or am I the playwright’s lie?

(Bridge – Shakespeare’s breakdown - A moment of eerie calm, then building intensity)
Methinks I am Hamlet, a prisoner of quill!
A specter of doubt in my own tragic will!
A writer! A madman! A fool on this stage!
Shall I craft my own doom on this sorrowful page?

(Reprise – Shakespeare’s moment of clarity - Shifting to triumphant, orchestral swell)
But nay! I see it now! My doubts are but the play!
For what is fiction but a mirror? And what is art but what we say?
The ink doth flow, the words take flight,
The prince of Denmark lives this night!

(Final Chorus – triumphant)
To write and not to doubt—that is the answer!
The tale is told, the stage is set, the quill obeys my hand!
And though my soul may blur with his, I wield the playwright’s might!
For truth and fiction dance as one—so now, at last, I write!

(Final orchestral flourish)

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(Verse 1 – Shakespeare, frustrated at his desk - To a slow, dramatic melody) Oh, wretched quill, why dost thou fail me now? A ghostly whisper bids me write, yet I know not how! A tale of kings, of poison’d fate, of madness and regret— Yet all my parchment’s empty still, my mind’s a tangled net! (Pre-Chorus – Shakespeare, pacing - Quicker, more frantic) What a piece of work is a man! So cunning, yet confounded! I grasp at words—like fleeting ghosts—they vanish, leave me grounded! The play’s the thing, or so they say, but what if I should blunder? Shall I take quill against this sea of doubts or let my mind go under? (Chorus – Shakespeare becomes Hamlet - Grand and soaring) To write or not to write—that is the question! To toil away or cast this wretched script aside? Dost art reflect the world—or dost the world reflect our art? And if I write, shall I become the soul within my part? (Verse 2 – Shakespeare fully descends into Hamlet’s mind - More manic, dramatic underscoring) Alas, poor Yorick!—but wait, he’s yet unmade! A skull upon the page, yet my ink spills naught but shade! The lady doth protest too much, methinks—but why? And is my madness fiction, or am I the playwright’s lie? (Bridge – Shakespeare’s breakdown - A moment of eerie calm, then building intensity) Methinks I am Hamlet, a prisoner of quill! A specter of doubt in my own tragic will! A writer! A madman! A fool on this stage! Shall I craft my own doom on this sorrowful page? (Reprise – Shakespeare’s moment of clarity - Shifting to triumphant, orchestral swell) But nay! I see it now! My doubts are but the play! For what is fiction but a mirror? And what is art but what we say? The ink doth flow, the words take flight, The prince of Denmark lives this night! (Final Chorus – triumphant) To write and not to doubt—that is the answer! The tale is told, the stage is set, the quill obeys my hand! And though my soul may blur with his, I wield the playwright’s might! For truth and fiction dance as one—so now, at last, I write! (Final orchestral flourish)

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