Opening Doors

Lyrics: Stephen Sondheim Music: Stephen Sondheim How's it going? Good. You? Fair Yeah, tell me Russian Tea Room Hi Mary Say hello I think I got a job Where? True Romances Posing? Thank you. Writing captions What about the book? What about the book? Nothing, are you working on the book? Yes Good No Mary— Right, I know, yes, me and Balzac I finished the one-act I got an audition— I started the story Rehearsal pianist So where are we eating? I'm moving to Playboy The publisher called me I'm doing a rewrite My parents are coming I saw My Fair Lady I rewrote the rewrite I sort of enjoyed it I threw out the story I'm meeting an agent We'll all get together on Sunday We're opening doors Singing, "Here we are!" We're filling up days on a dime That faraway shore's Looking not too far We're following every star— There's not enough time! I called a producer I sent off the one-act I started the story He said to come see him I dropped out of college I met this musician I'm playing a nightclub They're doing my one-act! I'm working for Redbook I rewrote the ballad I finished the story We started rehearsals I threw out the story And then the musician I'm moving to Popular Science We're opening doors Singing, "Look who's here!" Beginning to sail on a dime That faraway shore's Getting very near! We haven't a thing to fear— We haven't got time! Bum-bum-bu-bum-bum bum-bum La-da-da-da-da da-dum How's it coming? Good. You? Done One minute Hamburg Heaven Hi Mary Say hello I got another job Where? "Chic." What's that? A brand-new concept Pop-up pictures What about the book? What about the book? Did you give the publisher the book? Yes Good No Mary— Look, I never— (Finished!) Let me call you back (Right) This is just a draft (Right) Probably it stinks (Right) Haven't had the time to do a polish— Will you sing? (Right!) Who wants to live in New York? Who wants the worry, the noise, the dirt, the heat? Who wants the garbage cans clanging in the street? Suddenly I do They're always popping their cork— I'll fix that line— The cops, the cabbies, the salesgirls up at Saks You gotta have a real taste for maniacs— Suddenly I do! That's great! That's swell! The other stuff as well It isn't every day I hear a score this strong But fellas, if I may There's only one thing wrong There's not a tune you can hum There's not a tune you go bum-bum-bum-di-dum— You need a tune to go bum-bum-bum-di-dum— Give me a melody! Why can't you throw 'em a crumb? What's wrong with letting 'em tap their toes a bit? I'll let you know when Stravinsky has a hit Give me some melody! Oh sure, I know It's not that kind of show But can't you have a score That's sort of in between? Look, play a little more I'll show you what I mean! Who wants to live in New York? I've always hated the dirt, the heat, the noise But ever since I met you, I— Listen, boys Maybe it's me But that's just not a Hum-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mable melody! Write more, work hard— Leave your name with the girl Less avant-garde— Leave your name with the girl Just write a plain old melodee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee Dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee They're stopping rehearsals They ran out of money We lasted one issue My book was rejected The nightclub was raided I have to start coaching My parents are coming They screwed up the laundry My wallet was stolen I saw the musician We're being evicted I'm having a breakdown We'll all get together on Sunday They're slamming the doors Singing, "Go away!" It's less of a sail than a climb That faraway shore's Farther every day We're learning to ricochet We still have a lot to say You know what we'll do? What? We'll do a revue What? What? We'll do a revue of our own! What? Where? Why? When? Not just songs, but stories, scenes Piano pieces, mime— Yeah! "Frankly Frank!" A showcase of our own! Where? The club's reopening We'll write a lot of new stuff— Rewrite old stuff— What about the girl? What about the girl? Only that we're gonna need a girl Well, Mary— Thanks, I don't perform except at dinner Who wants to live in New York? Who wants the worry, the noise, the dirt, the heat? Who wants the garbage cans— Next! I can sing higher! Who wants to live in New York? Who wants to live in New York? Who wants to...? Who wants to...? Thank you for coming! They're always popping their cork— (Up a tone.) The cops, the cabbies, the salesgirls up at Saks— (Up a tone.) You gotta have a real taste for maniacs— Thank you. You're hired I'm Beth I'm Frank I really thought I stank I'm Mary Charley By the way I'm told we open Saturday? What!? You're not serious! Nobody's ready! Apparently somebody cancelled a booking The songs aren't finished And what about costumes? And how do I learn all these numbers? I'll bring you the copies of everything later this evening We'll worry about it on Sunday! We're opening doors Singing, "Here we are!" We're filling up days on a dime That faraway shore's looking not too far We're following every star— There's not enough time! We're banging on doors Shouting, "Here again!" We're risking it all on a dime That faraway shore's looking near again The only thing left is when We know we should count to ten— We haven't got time! We haven't got time!