When I close my eyes I've an IMAX silver screen; My projection room is stacked With reels of a re-run dream.
I'm typecast as leading man, You're the starlet, so it seems. Today I'm screening tragedy, That I played like comedy.
Two reels have played, I'll need three, To disuade me playing a parody.
I'll need to re-write, And a location set; I haven't run The credits yet.
You protested the direction; The hero fades out with rejection. It's a cliff-hanger. Will the girl return A fallen damsel? A chastised angel? A spiteful devil? I'm lying waiting To dream the sequel.