[A duet between Eli (male) and Socratessa (female), his devoted girlfriend]

[Intro – spoken, reflective]
(So I'm sipping lukewarm Coffee in a diner off Route 10)
(A call from Socratessa Jones pops up on my screen again)
(I know what’s coming...)

[Verse 1 – Socratessa, firm but caring]
Eli, you've had twenty years of schooling
And learnt every song ever written and every musical tooling.
But you can’t live forever on melodious grift,
Daddy says he needs a good worker on the day shift.
That road is long, playing music at bars full of cops,
Where no one listens, they just want you to stop.
The rent won’t pay itself, love won’t grow on broken bones.
Make me a Mercer; I'm tired of being a Jones.

[Verse 2 – Eli, defiant, earnest]
But Tess, so the weathermen taught me how the wind blows,
Now I'm standing on the Watchtower, seeing how the future goes.
Dad told me, “Get a haircut and get a real job,”
But my dream keeps knocking, I don't care if I'm a slob.
Those old guys have had their day, now they're shouting at clouds
I'm getting stronger, far off the pavement, I'm free and I'm proud.
Something is happening here, but you don't know what is,
Do you Tessa Jones

[Mini-Chorus – Eli’s leitmotif, melodic, uplifting]
I won’t let the real world crush my dreams,
Even when it’s harder than it seems.

[Verse 3 – Socratessa, wry, realistic]
It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock ’n’ roll,
You'll get ripped off, you'll get stoned
It aint easy playing one night stands.
And for every Rolling Stone
There's a thousand piano mans.
And not every soul with talent finds their mark.
You're derivative, Eli: where’s your spark?
Sitting at Motel California, halfway up the stairs,
With the dank smell of Colitas wafting up through your hair?

[wild but clumsy guitar solo with a few bum notes]

[Verse 4 – Eli, defiant but warm]
Sure, maybe I’m derivative, maybe I’m small,
But greatness grows with practice, after all.
I’m no algorithm spitting out a song,
I’ve got to stumble forward to where I belong.

[Bridge – overlapping duet, bittersweet]
Socratessa: One day you’ll thank me for saving your skin.
Eli: One day you’ll smile when I finally win.
Both: The real world bites, but still we sing—
A dream is a fragile, impossible thing.

[Mini-Chorus – Eli, softer, insistent]
Don’t let the real world crush your dreams,
I’ll keep on walking, stitch my seams.

[Outro – both, gentle, tender resolution]
[Socratessa] Maybe work the day shift, sing at night.
[Eli] Maybe that’s the balance, maybe that’s right.
[Together] The dialogue continues, love and doubt—
[Together] Till the music finds its way out.