| My husband makes movies
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| To make them he lives a kind of dream
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| In which his actions aren’t always what they seem
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| He may be on to some unique romantic theme
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| Some men run banks, some rule the world
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| Some earn their living baking bread
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| My husband, he goes a little crazy
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| Making movies instead
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| My husband spins fantasies
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| He lives them then gives them to you all
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| Like Michelangelo he paints his private dome
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| But can’t distinguish what’s his work and what’s his home
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| Some men sell stocks, some men punch clocks
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| Some leap where others fear to tread
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| My husband as author and director
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| Makes up stories in his head
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| Guido Contini, Luisa Contini
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| Number one genius and number one fan
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| Guido Contini, Luisa Contini
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| Passionate woman in love with this man
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| Long ago, many years ago once we two were
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| Guido Contini, Luisa, his lover
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| Actress with dreams and a life of her own
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| Then we had no end of worlds to discover
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| Singing together all night on the phone
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| Long ago, someone else ago
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| Long ago, someone else ago
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| How he needs me so
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| And he’ll be the last to know it
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| My husband makes movies
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| To make them he makes himself obsessed
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| He works for weeks on end without a bit of rest
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| No other way can he achieve his level best
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| Some men read books, some shine their shoes
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| Some retire early, some stay up to dream and muse
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| My husband only rarely comes to bed
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| My husband makes movies instead
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| My husband makes movies |