Broughton-Mason-Thomas
No... No golden mile
Or flashing cameras, the ritzy style
Just ... just scrap book smiles
There's no need to hurry, when all she has is time
She, she, she, she's going home
Between the pagodas and always alone
Down on Sunset Boulevard, you'd sell your soul before your car is paid for
The only laughing sound you hear, from blind men cause they hold no fear of darkness
With every flashing theatre light, a startled welcome through the night is glowing
But every mother's son is dead, they choked upon the daily bread they prayed for
Friends... friends pa** on by
She gives a performance, they call it a lie
Only ... only late at night
She still sees the traces of the city lights
Sun Sun ... Sun ... Sunset Boulevard, the devil can take her, she's been there before
By the broken ballistrade, an idol from another age is swaying
Softly singing Gershwin songs, but every other note is wrong and straining
And once again her gla** is dry, the bedroom mirror cannot lie forever
For down on Sunset Boulevard they've lived too long and laughed too hard to love her
The telephone is ringing ... but there's no reply
A gramophone is singing ... sweetly out of time
And in the hall, screaming for the final scene ...
Pa**ing through their eyes, peering for the view
With her name in lights, The lady's news
And in her sleep they call her... loving every smile
Lining every street to see her . . . starry eyed and wild
Again she wakes, screaming for the final scene
Pa**ing through their eyes, peering for the view
With her name in lights, The lady's news