You cant brush me under the carpet, you cant hide me under the stairs The custodian of your private fears, your leading actor of yesteryear Who as you crawled out of the alleys of obscurity Sentenced to rejection in the morass of anonymity You who I directed with lovers will, you who I let hypnotise the lens You who I let bathe in the spotlights glare You who wiped me from your memory like a greasepaint mask Just like a greasepaint mask But now Im the snake in the grass, the ghost of film reels past Im the producer of your nightmare and the performance has just begun Its just begun Your perimeter of courtiers jerk like celluloid puppets As you stutter paralysed with rabbits eyes, searing the shadows Flooding the wings, to pluck elusive salvation from the understudys lips Retrieve the soliloquy, maintain the obituary My cue line in the last act and you wait in silent solitude Waiting for the prompt, waiting for the prompt Youve played this scene before Incubus/FISH
Posted on: Thu, 07 Aug 2014 14:04:55 +0000
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