Sing It Like You Stole It

strattonel

Alaric and FuFu

strattonel

alternative rock, pop-punk, post-grunge

+ Show full styles

[Intro — lonely piano in the Student Commons. M is apparently attempting to participate in Glee Club with dignity.]
[M — low, melodic]
I was told there'd be music.
[F — offstage]
There is!
[M]
I was told there'd be singing.
[F]
Also yes!
[M]
Nobody mentioned—
[THUMP.]
[F]
Percussion?
[THUMP. THUMP.]
[M]
...the fucking bunny.
[F enters; band kicks in.]
[F]
You love the bunny.
[M]
Strong word.
[Verse I — M; piano becoming gritty acoustic rock]
[M]
They hand you some sheet music,
tell you where to stand,
smile at all the strangers,
try to follow the band.
Apparently we're harmonizing.
Apparently that's fun.
Apparently I've made several poor decisions—
[F]
And we're only on page one!
[M]
There's choreography?
[F]
Little bit.
[M]
Absolutely fucking not.
[F]
You haven't seen it yet!
[M]
Don't need to.
[F]
Five, six—
[M]
Bunny.
[F]
Seven, eight!
[Verse II — F; bright country-pop-rock answer]
[F]
You don't need perfect footwork.
[M]
Good.
[F]
Don't need perfect pitch.
[M]
I have perfect pitch.
[F]
Oh, honey—
[M]
Fuck you.
[F]
See? You're getting it!
You take a little melody,
put something real inside,
throw your shoulders back
and sing the shit you usually hide.
No producers.
No executives.
Nobody selling what we do.
Just a room full of weird-ass kids—
[M]
And one enormous pair of shoes.
[F]
They're boots.
[M]
They're municipal infrastructure.
[Chorus — full Glee Club explodes in]
[F]
You gotta SING IT LIKE YOU STOLE IT!
[M]
Sing it like you mean it!
[F]
If the note's too high—
[M]
Scream until you reach it!
[F]
If your heart gets loud—
[M]
Let the bastard show!
[BOTH]
You don't need permission
for the things you need to know!
[F]
Sing it!
[M]
Break it!
[F]
Bend it!
[M]
Make it!
[BOTH]
If somebody wrote the rules—
WE'RE GONNA FUCKING FAKE IT!
[GLEE CLUB — brightly harmonized]
Whoa-oh-oh!
[M]
They're very cheerful.
[F]
I know! It's terrifying!
[Verse III — alternating lines; theatrical staging takes over]
[M]
I've played clubs where half the crowd
was bleeding by the end.
[F]
I've fought demons during musical numbers.
[M]
Of course you have.
[F]
Season Four.
[M]
Didn't ask.
[F]
Two-parter!
[M]
Still don't care.
[F]
You'd have loved the wardrobe.
[M]
Bunny—
[F]
Focus!
[They trade lines increasingly quickly.]
[F]
I'll take melody!
[M]
I'll take low!
[F]
I'll go high!
[M]
Yeah, we know.
[F]
I'll take rhythm!
[M]
Use the drums.
[F raises one enormous boot.]
[M]
No.
[F]
What?
[M]
Whatever you're thinking—
No.
[THOOM.]
[The entire band stops.]
[GLEE CLUB MEMBER]
...Did she break the stage?
[F]
Stage was weak.
[M]
The stage was oak.
[F]
Constructive criticism.
[Verse IV — M; surprisingly sincere]
[M]
Truth is, Bunny,
I've spent years getting good
at making every ugly thing
sound exactly like it should.
Take whatever hurts you,
give the bastard chords,
turn it up until you can't hear
what you're running from anymore.
But this?
[gestures around the Commons]
This is different.
Nobody bought a ticket.
Nobody knows my name.
Half these kids can't fucking harmonize—
[GLEE CLUB]
HEY!
[M]
—and somehow...
[small laugh]
that's okay.
[Verse V — F; piano and acoustic guitar soften]
[F]
Yeah.
Maybe music doesn't always
need somebody listening.
Maybe every song we make
doesn't need to mean something.
Maybe sometimes people sing
because somebody else starts.
Then another voice joins in.
Then somebody finds the parts.
No cameras.
No charts.
No fucking ratings.
Just—
[M quietly harmonizes beneath her.]
Oh.
[M]
Keep going.
[F]
You're doing the harmony.
[M]
Don't make it weird.
[F — smiling through the line]
Wouldn't dream of it.
[Bridge — classic Glee-style stripped duet]
[F]
Maybe I don't know the words.
[M]
I'll catch you when you miss 'em.
[F]
Maybe you don't know the dance.
[M]
I categorically don't.
[F]
I'll teach you.
[M]
I'd rather die.
[F]
Drama queen.
[M]
Pop princess.
[F]
Asshole.
[M]
Bunny.
[Their voices finally meet in a clean harmony.]
[BOTH — softly]
Maybe that's the whole damn point.
You bring yours.
I'll bring mine.
We don't have to sound alike
to sound good side by side.
[beat]
[F]
That was disgustingly wholesome.
[M]
Never speak of it again.
[Final Chorus — enormous show-choir rock arrangement]
[F]
SING IT LIKE YOU STOLE IT!
[M]
Sing it like you mean it!
[GLEE CLUB]
Whoa-oh-oh!
[F]
If the note's too high—
[M]
I'll fucking help you reach it!
[F]
If the world's too loud—
[M]
Then louder's where we go!
[BOTH]
We don't need permission
to make something of our own!
[F]
Sweet!
[M]
Dirty!
[F]
Pretty!
[M]
Loud!
[BOTH]
Two completely different voices
in one fucked-up crowd!
[GLEE CLUB]
SING IT! SING IT!
[F]
Come on, Pretty Boy!
[M]
Don't call me—
[F]
FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT!
[F launches into the choreography.]
[M]
Oh, fuck my life.
[He joins her.]
[F — delighted]
HE'S DANCING!
[M]
I WILL END YOU, BUNNY!
[GLEE CLUB — enormous final harmony]
SING IT LIKE YOU STOLE IT!
[THUMP! — final chord]
[silence]
[M]
We broke the stage.
[F]
We broke the stage.
[beat]
[M]
...Fair.

4931/7500

[Intro — lonely piano in the Student Commons. M is apparently attempting to participate in Glee Club with dignity.] [M — low, melodic] I was told there'd be music. [F — offstage] There is! [M] I was told there'd be singing. [F] Also yes! [M] Nobody mentioned— [THUMP.] [F] Percussion? [THUMP. THUMP.] [M] ...the fucking bunny. [F enters; band kicks in.] [F] You love the bunny. [M] Strong word. [Verse I — M; piano becoming gritty acoustic rock] [M] They hand you some sheet music, tell you where to stand, smile at all the strangers, try to follow the band. Apparently we're harmonizing. Apparently that's fun. Apparently I've made several poor decisions— [F] And we're only on page one! [M] There's choreography? [F] Little bit. [M] Absolutely fucking not. [F] You haven't seen it yet! [M] Don't need to. [F] Five, six— [M] Bunny. [F] Seven, eight! [Verse II — F; bright country-pop-rock answer] [F] You don't need perfect footwork. [M] Good. [F] Don't need perfect pitch. [M] I have perfect pitch. [F] Oh, honey— [M] Fuck you. [F] See? You're getting it! You take a little melody, put something real inside, throw your shoulders back and sing the shit you usually hide. No producers. No executives. Nobody selling what we do. Just a room full of weird-ass kids— [M] And one enormous pair of shoes. [F] They're boots. [M] They're municipal infrastructure. [Chorus — full Glee Club explodes in] [F] You gotta SING IT LIKE YOU STOLE IT! [M] Sing it like you mean it! [F] If the note's too high— [M] Scream until you reach it! [F] If your heart gets loud— [M] Let the bastard show! [BOTH] You don't need permission for the things you need to know! [F] Sing it! [M] Break it! [F] Bend it! [M] Make it! [BOTH] If somebody wrote the rules— WE'RE GONNA FUCKING FAKE IT! [GLEE CLUB — brightly harmonized] Whoa-oh-oh! [M] They're very cheerful. [F] I know! It's terrifying! [Verse III — alternating lines; theatrical staging takes over] [M] I've played clubs where half the crowd was bleeding by the end. [F] I've fought demons during musical numbers. [M] Of course you have. [F] Season Four. [M] Didn't ask. [F] Two-parter! [M] Still don't care. [F] You'd have loved the wardrobe. [M] Bunny— [F] Focus! [They trade lines increasingly quickly.] [F] I'll take melody! [M] I'll take low! [F] I'll go high! [M] Yeah, we know. [F] I'll take rhythm! [M] Use the drums. [F raises one enormous boot.] [M] No. [F] What? [M] Whatever you're thinking— No. [THOOM.] [The entire band stops.] [GLEE CLUB MEMBER] ...Did she break the stage? [F] Stage was weak. [M] The stage was oak. [F] Constructive criticism. [Verse IV — M; surprisingly sincere] [M] Truth is, Bunny, I've spent years getting good at making every ugly thing sound exactly like it should. Take whatever hurts you, give the bastard chords, turn it up until you can't hear what you're running from anymore. But this? [gestures around the Commons] This is different. Nobody bought a ticket. Nobody knows my name. Half these kids can't fucking harmonize— [GLEE CLUB] HEY! [M] —and somehow... [small laugh] that's okay. [Verse V — F; piano and acoustic guitar soften] [F] Yeah. Maybe music doesn't always need somebody listening. Maybe every song we make doesn't need to mean something. Maybe sometimes people sing because somebody else starts. Then another voice joins in. Then somebody finds the parts. No cameras. No charts. No fucking ratings. Just— [M quietly harmonizes beneath her.] Oh. [M] Keep going. [F] You're doing the harmony. [M] Don't make it weird. [F — smiling through the line] Wouldn't dream of it. [Bridge — classic Glee-style stripped duet] [F] Maybe I don't know the words. [M] I'll catch you when you miss 'em. [F] Maybe you don't know the dance. [M] I categorically don't. [F] I'll teach you. [M] I'd rather die. [F] Drama queen. [M] Pop princess. [F] Asshole. [M] Bunny. [Their voices finally meet in a clean harmony.] [BOTH — softly] Maybe that's the whole damn point. You bring yours. I'll bring mine. We don't have to sound alike to sound good side by side. [beat] [F] That was disgustingly wholesome. [M] Never speak of it again. [Final Chorus — enormous show-choir rock arrangement] [F] SING IT LIKE YOU STOLE IT! [M] Sing it like you mean it! [GLEE CLUB] Whoa-oh-oh! [F] If the note's too high— [M] I'll fucking help you reach it! [F] If the world's too loud— [M] Then louder's where we go! [BOTH] We don't need permission to make something of our own! [F] Sweet! [M] Dirty! [F] Pretty! [M] Loud! [BOTH] Two completely different voices in one fucked-up crowd! [GLEE CLUB] SING IT! SING IT! [F] Come on, Pretty Boy! [M] Don't call me— [F] FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT! [F launches into the choreography.] [M] Oh, fuck my life. [He joins her.] [F — delighted] HE'S DANCING! [M] I WILL END YOU, BUNNY! [GLEE CLUB — enormous final harmony] SING IT LIKE YOU STOLE IT! [THUMP! — final chord] [silence] [M] We broke the stage. [F] We broke the stage. [beat] [M] ...Fair.

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