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Don't tell my sister about your most recent vision |
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Don't tell my family they're all wicked strict |
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ChristianDon't tell the hangers on, don't tell your friends |
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Don't tell them we went down to |
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Ybor City again |
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Don't tell the dancers, they'll just get distracted |
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Don't tell the |
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DJs, they already suspect us |
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Don't mention the bloodshed, don't mention the skins |
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Don't tell them, |
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Ybor City almost killed us again |
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We are the theater, they are the people |
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Dressed up to be seated, looking upwards and dreaming |
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We're the projectors, we're hosting the screening |
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We're dust in the spotlights, we're just kinda floating |
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Don't drop little hints, |
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I don't want them to guess |
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Don't mention |
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Tampa, they'll just know all the rest |
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Don't mention bloodshed, don't tell them it hurts |
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Don't say we saw angels, they'll take us straight to the church |
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They queue up for tickets to see the performance |
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They push to get closer looking upwards with wonder |
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We are the actors, the cameras are rolling |
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I'll be Ben |
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Gazarra, you'll be |
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Gena Rowlands |
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Sometimes actresses get slapped |
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Sometimes actresses get slapped |
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Sometimes fake fights turn out bad |
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Sometimes actresses get slapped |
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Some nights making it look real |
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Might end up with someone hurt |
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Some nights it's just entertainment |
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And some other nights it's worse |
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They come in for the beating, sit in stadium seating |
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They're holding their hands out for the body and blood now |
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We're the directors, our hands will hold steady |
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I'll be John |
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Cassavetes, let me know when you're ready |
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Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa |
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Man, we make our own movies |
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Man, we make our own movies |
|
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa |
|
Man, we make our own movies |
|
Man, we make our own movies |
|
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa |
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Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa |
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Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa |
