I'd like to star in your next movie,
Oh great film director.

You have all of those actor's resumes, I know..
Just begging for your attention..
Puffing out their chests,
And pulling up their skirts.

But don't I have something special?
Don't I have sparkles in my eyes?
Only when I'm behind the camera,
You said.

We would talk about sequels,
And coffee shop conversations.
But we never got to Starbucks,
Did we?

Let's just face it,
Oh great film director..
My fifteen minutes of fame is up,
And I'm simply not good enough for you anymore.

So put your adds out in the newspaper,
Looking for a blonde bombshell
Just waiting to be discovered.

And I'll work on independent films
That will never make it to Hollywood..

But I never could make it there..
Even when you promised to take me, yourself.
 
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