| I invited all the kids doing walk-ons in «Samson and Delilah»
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| Where have you been hiding? |
| I called your apartment. |
| I called your ex-agent.
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| I was about to call the Bureau of Missing Persons
|
| Well, they always know where to find me
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| You gotta say your New Year’s resolution out loud
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| Jean!
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| By this time next year
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| I’ll have landed a juicy part
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| Nineteen fifty will be my start
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| No more carrying spears
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| I’ll be discovered
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| My life won’t ever be the same
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| Billy Wilder will know my name
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| And he’ll call all the time
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| 'Til he does, can one of you guys lend her a dime?
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| Just an apartment
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| With no roaches and no dry rot
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| Where the hot water comes out hot
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| That’s my Hollywood dream
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| Your resolution
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| Is to write something that gets shot
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| With approximately the plot
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| I first had in my head
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| But you’ll get rewritten even after you’re dead
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| Artie!
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| It’s the year to begin a new life
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| Buy a place somewhere quiet, somewhere pretty
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| When you have a young kid and a wife
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| Then you need somewhere green, far from the city
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| It’s a rambling old house with a big apple tree
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| With a swing for the kid and a hammock for me
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| Behold, my children
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| It is I, Cecil B. DeMille
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| Meeting me must be quite a thrill
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| But there’s no need to kneel
|
| I guarantee you
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| Every girl in my chorus line
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| Is a genuine Philistine
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| They don’t come off the shelf
|
| I flew every one in from Philistia myself
|
| I have some good news
|
| It’s «Blind Windows»
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| You don’t let go
|
| I gave Sheldrake an outline, Joe
|
| And he swallowed the bait
|
| Well, hallelujah!
|
| While you’ve been buying vicuna coats
|
| I’ve been making a lot of notes
|
| Now there’s work we should do
|
| Betty, you’re forgetting that I gave it to you
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| You remind me of me long ago
|
| Off the bus, full of ignorant ambition
|
| Thought I’d waltz into some studio
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| And achieve overnight recognition
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| I’ve seen too many optimists sinking like stones
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| Felt them suck all the marrow clean out of my bones
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| I love «Blind Windows»
|
| But I can’t write it on my own
|
| Can’t we speak on the telephone?
|
| All my evenings are free
|
| Hey, just a minute
|
| I’m the fellow who bought the ring
|
| Artie, this is a business thing
|
| It’s important to me
|
| You’ll be on location in Clinch, Tennessee
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| Please make this your New Year’s resolution for me
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| By this time next year
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| I will get my foot in the door
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| Next year I know I’m going to score
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| An amazing success
|
| Cut to the moment
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| When they open the envelope
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| Pass the statuette to Bob Hope
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| And it’s my name you hear
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| We’ll be down on our knees
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| Outside Grauman’s Chinese
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| Palm prints there on the street
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| Immortality’s neat
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| This time next year
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| This time next year
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| We’ll have nothing to fear
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| Contracts all signed
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| Three-picture deal
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| Yellow brick road career
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| Hope we’re not still saying these things
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| This time next year
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| You know, I think I will be available in the New Year. |
| In fact, I’m available
|
| right now
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| Joe, that’s great!
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| Hey, Artie, where’s your phone?
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| Under the bar
|
| Hey, Artie. |
| You think you could put me up for a couple of weeks?
|
| It just so happens we’ve got a vacancy on the couch
|
| I’ll take it
|
| Yes?
|
| Max, it’s Mr. Gillis. |
| I want you to do me a favor
|
| I’m sorry, Mr. Gillis. |
| I can’t talk right now
|
| Listen, I want you to take my old suitcases —
|
| I’m sorry, I am attending to Madame
|
| What do you mean?
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| Madame found the razor in your room. |
| And she’s cut her wrists
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| Three, two, one, Happy New Year!
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| Should auld acquiantance be forgot
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| And never brought to mind
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| Should auld acquiantance be forgot
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| And days of auld lang syne
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| For auld lang syne, my dear
|
| For auld lang syne |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song This Time Next Year , by - Andrew Lloyd Webber. Song from the album Sunset Boulevard, in the genre Мировая классика