Download the piano/vocal score.

my life, part 2

TIM

OK, then ... Just start wherever you’d like.

TIM takes hold of his guitar and starts to play as INGRID sings - a little tentatively at first, than with ever-increasing confidence as the song proceeds. Her voice is lustrous.

INGRID
MY LIFE? IT WAS QUIET.
I QUILTED, SIPPED TEA.
I WAS TIMID, NEVER RASH.
I MADE NO BIGGER SPLASH
THAN A DROPLET IN THE SEA.
MY LIFE. IT WAS SIMPLE.
NO WHISTLES. NO BELLS.
I GAINED NO MORE GROUND
THAN A PONY GOING ’ROUND
ON A FAIRGROUND CAROUSEL.

I HAD AN UNEVENTFUL CHILDHOOD.
STILL WATERS IN MY TEENS.
HOW DIFFERENT MY ADULT LIFE COULD HAVE BEEN
IF I’D REALIZED MY DREAMS.

TIM
You mean you didn’t chase after any of them?

INGRID
Well, sure I did. I mean, I tried.
BUT MY LIFE WAS JUST COMMON.
A STUCK TO MY ROUTINES.
SOME SAY A TREE FALLING DOWN
WHEN THERE’S NO ONE AROUND
MAKES NO SOUND,
WELL, I AGREE.
TAKE IT FROM ME.
I AM THAT TREE.
THAT TREE IS ME.

TIM
Aw. But you must have had a job you liked.

INGRID
"LIKED" IS THE WRONG WORD.
I WOULD SAY"LOATHED".
PUNCHING A CLOCK
FOR LITTLE PAY
SLAVING AWAY
AT THE BON MARCHE
WAS ABSURD!
I DREAMED OF BEING A SINGER.
ONE DAY I TOOK THE PLUNGE.
I SNEAKED OFF TO L.A.,
GOT AN AGENT RIGHT AWAY,
AND BECAME THE VOICE OF CORNY CRUNCH.
BUT MY LOOKS WERE "TOO FIFTIES!"
TOO DEBORAH KERR,
TOO DORIS DAY.
IN OTHER WORDS:
TOO CONVENTIONAL.
IT’S JUST AS WELL;
MY DAD GOT SICK ANYWAY.
SO I MOVED BACK WITH MY PARENTS.
TO NURSE HIM BACK TO HEALTH.
BUT MY EFFORTS WERE IN VAIN
HE DIED STUBBORN, HE DIED IN PAIN;
A SHADOW OF HIMSELF.

YOU SEE MY DREAMS, THEY DIDN’T HELP.
DREAMS OF FORTUNE, FAME, AND WEALTH:
I PUT THEM UP ON THE SHELF.

TIM
And if you had to do it all over again?

INGRID
I ASK MYSELF OFTEN.
WHAT IF THIS? WHAT IF THAT?
WHAT IF I’D REALLY RAISED THE BAR:
SET MY SIGHTS ON THE STARS!
WOULD I STILL HAVE FALLEN FLAT?
WHAT IF I’D MET MY SPECIAL SOMEONE?
WHAT IF I’D MET HIM ON THE STREET?
WHAT IF WE CROSSED PATHS EVERY DAY
AT THE STORE, AT THE CAFE,
BUT WE WERE NEVER MEANT TO MEET?
BECAUSE TRUE LOVE NEVER FOUND ME.
I DON’T COUNT MY FIANCÉ.
HE WAS NICE, BUT NOT THE ONE, IT SEEMS.
BUT I LOVED HIM IN MY WAY.
AND THERE’S A “WHAT IF” THAT STAYS WITH ME.
WHAT IF WE HADN’T HAD THAT FIGHT?
THE NIGHT HIS CAR JUMPED THE DIVIDE
AND HIT THE TRAFFIC ON THE OTHER SIDE
WHAT IF I’D DIED WITH HIM THAT NIGHT?
BUT "WHAT IFS" DON’T BRING ANSWERS, OR ACCEPTANCE, PEACE, RELIEF.
THEY ONLY BRING MORE QUESTIONS
IN AN ENDLESS SUCCESSION
OF IMPRESSIONS AND DIGRESSIONS
THAT MAKE UP MY LIFE.

Words and Music by Michael Johnson
Dialog by Rich Rubin

©2014 Zubsongs, Ltd.