The movie fades to black in spades
No Oscar nod this year
The cinematographer’s an ex-pornographer
The sound design’s unclear
The make-up plot’s got smears and blots
The costume designer isn’t queer
The script is dreck, the film’s a wreck
A loser in a multi-plex
The lead actress is all pose & flex
The director fucked up the scenes with sex
The key grip isn’t gripping
And the best boy is slipping
The editor should have been ripping
The paint effects are dripping
The dialogue isn’t tripping
Off the tongue of the young ingénue
Or the slew of featured extras hoping, praying that they can make it, too
Olivier couldn’t save it
Nor Ms. Penelope Cruz
The producer is drowning his sorrows in imported top shelf booze
As he dines on lines of cut cocaine the studio underwrites
While he gets his knob schlobb-a-da-bobbed by P.A.’s with overbites
The popcorn’s been popped
The feel’s been copped
The balcony is closed
The question in question
Is a gentle suggestion
That Kevin Costner Blows
I leave the theatre, make a call to fight with my girlfriend
I run into the popcorn seller and stop, afraid again
The small of Camron Diaz back won’t make me break my date
The soft round cheeks, Drew Barrymore, might make me a minute late
The leather shoe of Lucy Liu, can’t make me break my vow
But the popcorn seller looks at me, I’m stopped, afraid, and wowed
She hasn’t got the hot to trot that Mae West had in spades
She hasn’t got the Myrna Loy, the Betty Boop, the blades
Of grass, the stunning ass those Betty Grable Highs
My ex-wife would have understood, if she’d believed my other lies
She was prepared, Claudette Colbaired, she nailed me, cracking wise
The popcorn seller didn’t have the actress sexy sighs
Or any way to circumvent the answers to the whys
She burned me down around and round, not with demanding cries
And Bette Davis doesn’t hold a candle to this prize
The popcorn seller looked at me…and she had Lilly Taylor’s eyes
I could have ignored her Juliann Moore, her Juliet Lewis sighs
I could skipped the hair that clipped like Vidal Sassoon’s first prize
I could have passed on J-Lo’s ass, or Selma Hyack’s thighs
My girlfriend she would understand, that I was clearly undermanned
And realized I’m just a man…cause she had Lilly Taylor’s Eyes
I took her home, alone, and boned, I was helpless, I reprise
Cause she had Lilly Taylor’s Eyes.