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You're twenty years old, an answering machine, a nickname
Your book, your CV, your face, your photo
In a movie ad for beer
You drink, you shed a tear at the bottom of your glass
For thirty seconds
The camera turns around you
You're way too swingy to stay behind
But not enough to be in the light
The first role will be for tomorrow
The film slips through your hands
You drink, you cry
But you will always be the star
From the intermission
Ten years later, answering machine and nickname
Same book, same CV, always the photos
The cinema only left you with the stitches inside out
You unravel in a deserted peep show
And for twenty balls
We turn we turn around you
You're way too swingy to stay behind
Express yourself well, put yourself in the light
A drink at the bar is already tomorrow
Men, guys, you slip through their hands
You drink, you cry
But you will always be the star
From the intermission
You admit thirty five, answering machine and nickname
On his desk he put your photo
Your heart hurts
And the Earth revolves around you
You have a studio in the street behind
And when his wife turned off all the lights
She loves him so much, kisses, see you tomorrow
He comes up to your house, the glass slips from your hands
You drink, you cry
But you will always be the star
From the intermission
From the intermission
From the intermission
