Video Completion Of The Script » Sunset Boulevard Lyrics | Musica Lyrics

Sunset Boulevard - Completion Of The Script Lyrics

Joe
In December, the rain came. One great big package, Over-sized, like everything else in California;
And it came right through the roof of my room
Above the garage.
So she had me move into the main house.
Into what Max called " The room of the husbands"
And on a clear day, the theory was, you could see Catalina. And little by little I worked through the end of the script.
At which point I might have left;
Only by then those two boys from the finance company
Had traced my car and towed it away;
And I hadn't seen one single dollar of cash money-
Since I arrived.
Norma
Stop that! Today's the day.
Joe
What do you mean?
Norma
Max is going to deliver the script to Paramount
Joe
You're really going to give it to De Mille?
Norma
I've just spoken with my astrologer.
She read De Millle's horoscope; she read mine.
Joe
Did she read the script?
Norma
De Mille is Leo; I'm scorpio.
Mars is transiting Jupiter,
And today is the day of closest conjunction.
Joe
Oh, well, that's all right, then.
Norma
Max
Max
Yes, Madame
Norma
Make sure it goes to Mr. De Mille in person.
Joe
Well....
Norma
Great day.
Joe
It's been real interesting
Norma
Yes...hasn't it?
Joe
I want to thank you for trusting me with your baby
Norma
Not at all, it is I who should thank you
Joe
Will you call and let me know as soon as you have some news?
Norma
Call? Where?
Joe
My apartment
Norma
Oh, but, you couldn't possibly think of leaving now, Joe.
Joe
Norma, the script is finished.
Norma
No, Joe, No, it's just the beginning, it's just the first draft;
I couldn't dream of letting you go, I need your support.
Joe
Well, I can't stay.
Norma
You'll stay on with full salary, of course.
Joe
Oh, Norma, it's not the money.
Yes, of course,
I'll stay until we get some sort of news back from Paramount.
Norma
Thank you, thank you, Joe.
Joe
So, Max wheeled out that foreign bus
Brushed the leopardskin upholstery.
He trundled along to Paramount
To hand Cecil B. our hopeless opus.
My work was over I was feeling no pain.
Locked up like John the Baptist.