DARK CARNIVAL 

There’s no need for any memoirs—
since when does Hollywood care?

Los Angeles a heartless bitch—
just ask Bela Lugosi, my dears
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Bela fell for Ed Woods of course—
offered the chance to star again

Who gave a fuck if it was cheesy—
BRIDE OF THE MONSTER?
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Actors need to act to live—
it’s the lifeblood of filmic gods

Gods of the Silver Screen—
the only Immortality we have
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Observe us at any Film Palace—
but there are none of them left

We live again only alone—
like very old vintage wine
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We need Hollywood no longer—
we exist now in the Night

Look at me Tod Browning—
sitting in front of my TV
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Alone in my beach-house—
late at night on Monica Beach

Watching late movies—
preferably old horror ones
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We directors make movies—
like Billy Wilder and Huston

But I was unique—
I created you FREAKS