Opening Doors

How's it going?

Good, you?

Fair

Yeah, tell me

Chinese laundry

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 your 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

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

Finished

Let me call you back

Right

This is just a draft

Right

I 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 the cork

I hate 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 you can 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 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 humable 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 melodey

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 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 the 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 clanging in the street?

Thank you for coming

Next eight, please

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 someone cancelled a booking

The songs aren't finsihed

And what about costumes?

And how do I learn all these numbers?

I'll bring you the copies of everything later this evening.

Okay, but I'll have to have all the music and

Saturday I've got to sing at a wedding

Oh God, is there dancing 'cause I'm not a dancer?

Not to mention I still haven't finished the

Synanon song or the Kennedy number

You don't have to, we'll segue the

End of it into the dance we cut out

And what'll we do about getting publicity

Run around town putting stickers on windows?

And have we decided or not on the restaurant sketch?

I need two or three days to replace it

| No, we'll use it but not with the long introduction

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