Watching through the dust I'm trapped in a theatre of velvet and rust With lonely shafts of light And other ghosts drinking refreshments that's served up by skeletons It's the spaces in the dark Where shadows of dead souls dance on the wall Where not only were you the star But you were the bleak soundtrack to my film noire Yeah that was you
And it's my job to be embittered and constantly proving a mystery But we're dismal in the roles I'm scratchy and mono as Bogart And you are a sepia Monroe - Who's beneath the cobwebs and the chandeliers With others who've been dead for years Like heroes brought to life again Like picture shows and Rocket-men And the light that fills the room Well it's the flicker from a paper moon And when the film is run and through Well that's when the darkness must win