In Spring Awakening, Steven Sater's lyrics sing like poetry. Their intimacy tingles in your throat as you repeat them under your breath. Your eyes close, just long enough to dance on the brink of surrender.
If Occupy Wall Street signals the end of our own, atypical period of acquiescence, could a return to a version of "class warfare" that would, once upon a time, have been familiar to so many Americans be on the horizon? Finally!