| When footlights dim in reverence to prescient passion forewarned
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| My audience leaves the stage, floating ahead perfumed shift
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| Within the stammering silence, the face that launched a thousand frames
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| Betrayed by a porcelain tear, a stained career
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| You played this scene before, you played this scene before
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| I am the mote in your eye, I am the mote in your eye
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| A misplaced reaction
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| The darkroom unleashes imagination in pornographic images
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| In which you will always be the star, always be the star, untouchable
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| Unapproachable, constant in the darkness
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| Nursing an erection, a misplaced reaction
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| With no flower to place before this gravestone
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| And the walls become enticingly newspaper thin
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| But that would be developing the negative view
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| And you have to be exposed in voyeuristic colour
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| The public act, let you model your shame
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| On the mannequin catwalk, catwalk
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| Let the cats walk, and the cat walks
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| I’ve played this scene before, I’ve played this scene before
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| I am the mote in your eye, I am the mote in your eye
|
| A misplaced reaction, satisfaction
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| I’m the irritating speck of dust that came from absolutely nowhere
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| You can’t brush me under the carpet, you can’t hide me under the stairs
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| The custodian of your private fears, your leading actor of yesteryear
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| Who as you crawled out of the alleys of obscurity
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| Sentenced to rejection in the morass of anonymity
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| You who I directed with lovers will, you who I let hypnotise the lens
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| You who I let bathe in the spotlights glare
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| You who wiped me from your memory like a greasepaint mask
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| Just like a greasepaint mask
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| But now I’m the snake in the grass, the ghost of film reels past
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| I’m the producer of your nightmare and the performance has just begun
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| It’s just begun
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| Your perimeter of courtiers jerk like celluloid puppets
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| As you stutter paralysed with rabbits eyes, searing the shadows
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| Flooding the wings, to pluck elusive salvation from the understudy’s lips
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| Retrieve the soliloquy, maintain the obituary
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| My cue line in the last act and you wait in silent solitude
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| Waiting for the prompt, waiting for the prompt
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| You’ve played this scene before |