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