Watching through the dust
I'm trapped in a theatre of velvet [bad word] 
With lonely shafts of light
And other ghosts drinking refreshments that's served up by skeletons

It's the spaces in the dark
Where shadows of dead souls dance on the walls
Where not only were you the star
But you were the bleak soundtrack to my film noir
Yeah, well that was you

That was you
Yeah that was you
Mm-mm that was you
And what if we just plug-in and go?

And it's my job to be
Embittered and constantly proving a mystery
And although we're dismal in the roles
I'm scratchy and mono as Bogart and you are a sepia Monroe

Who's beneath the cobwebs and the chandeliers
With others who've been dead for years
Like heroes brought to life again
Like picture shows and Rocket-men

And the light that fills the room
Well it's the flicker from a paper moon
And when the film [bad word] and through
Well that's when the darkness must win