A song cycle consideration of decades-long queer relationships

Lyrics by Taylor Mac

Music by Jake Heggie

World Premiere of the first song in the cycle: July 7, 2024 LondonFirst Performance: soprano Pumeza Matshikiza, conductor Oliver Zeffman, and London Symphony Orchestra Barbican Centre , London, UK

World Premiere of the entire cycle:  July 10th, 2025, The Hollywood Bowl

Vocalists:  Antony Roth Costanzo, Pumeza Matshikiza, and Jamie Barton

World Premiere with one vocalists singing the entire song cycle at Cabrillo Festival, Santa Cruz, Aug 10th, 2025

Vocalist: Nikola Printz

Commissioned by Classical Pride

LYRICS

1. GOOD MORNING, BEAUTY

Your breathing, when sleeping,

Steady, clear, undeterred.

Are you leaping over fallen trees

With the herd?

Are you on a Dante ring?

Or is it more the Buddhist rise?

Are you singing an inner quest

’Til the sun opens eyes?

Good morning, beauty.

How are you here?

How has it happened?

Year after year?

Sundown then sunrise,

Despite what was planned,

The proof is the way

A hand wakes in hand.

Your back, when washing dishes,

Blissful, strong, and taking care,

Are you wishing to be left alone

With me there?

Are you in a reverie?

Or is it more the many lists?

Is it e-ve-ry accomplishment’

Til the end opens fists?

Good morning, lover.

How are you here?

How has it happened?

Year after year?

Sundown then sunrise,

Despite what was writ,

The proof is the way

Our hands always fit.

All the schooling

From birth to leaving

Never mentioned you.

All the rearing

In cold believing

Never mentioned you.

Good morning, lover.

How are you here?

Year after year

After year.

After year.

2. RISING

And then the trained behavior—UP!

Faster than entangled legs,

Catching you,

Holding you down, to me.

And then the active duty—GO!

Faster than entangled eyes,

Trying to

Open to sound, to see.

You,

Rising,

You,

Surprising the day

Before it

Outwits you first.

And then the kettle whistle—

Louder than a sound should be.

Catching me,

Forcing me up, with you

.Ri-tu-als more regular

Than the sun.

Shall I run, for you?

You,

Racing.

You,

Facing the day

Before it

Outpaces us first.

And then settles.

SettlesTo a mosey.

And then the walks in the woods,

Slow.

Manicuring fallen trees

Ferns and these

Paths we choose.

3. OR AM I IN A RUT?

Or am I in a rut?

Gauging from the nervous gut,

Sex therapy and aging.

Paging Dr. Kinsey.

The real estate is caging us,

While staging us

To sell to younger versions.

Perhaps an excursion?

To Mexico?

No.

You silly privileged shit.-

I’ll call myself it first,

Before they come for me,

Those Ivy League

Social justice workers.

She says the passion only lasts

Two years.

Two years?

For everyone.

Well, almost everyone.

Well ... Us.

Or am I in a rut?J

udging from the sagging butt

And the way that I’m begrudging

Drudging up the reasons.

And we are we still fudging it

While nudging it

To be a better version?

Perhaps an excursion?

To Tokyo?

No.

You can’t escape the country

Simply because you leave it.

They always come for you,

Those Ivy LeagueAnti-elitist creepers.

Why does the passion only last

Two years?

Two years?

For everyone.

Well, almost everyone.

Well ... us.

Or maybe just accept

Beauty’s not what you have kept

But what you deem a duty.

Beauty’s the beholder.

So what, you’re getting older, so

Get bolder, so

Go be your better version.

4. DEARLY, QUEERLY

You climbed on top of me and made me smile –

The pile of your body

Surrounding me

With all of you

.I hadn’t felt your whimsey in a while –

Your guile of desire,

Laid out so clearly,

All of you.

Dearly,

Queerly,

All.

I feel,

Despite the faith in all but atoms,

The stratums of our love

Are not what floats above

But what is real.

I guess,

Despite how some have wished it shatter,

The matter of our love

Is not what floats above

But what we press

Together, here.

And now we turn the page and your desire

Requires the understanding

That when you leave

With all of you

The secret message of you still remains –

It stains our past and future

And is so clearly

All of you.

Dearly,

Queerly,

All.

I feel,

Despite the faith in all but atoms,

The stratums of our love

Are not what floats above

But what is real.

I guess,

Despite how some have wished it shatter,

The matter of our love

Is not what floats above

But what we press

Together, here.

Good morning, Lover.

How are you here?

Year after year,

After year,After year,

After year,

After year.