Tekst
My husband makes movies
To make them he lives a kind of dream
In which his actions aren't always what they seem
He may be on to some unique romantic theme
Some men run banks, some rule the world
Some earn their living baking bread
My husband, he goes a little crazy
Making movies instead
My husband spins fantasies
He lives them then gives them to you all
Like Michelangelo he paints his private dome
But can't distinguish what's his work and what's his home
Some men sell stocks, some men punch clocks
Some leap where others fear to tread
My husband as author and director
Makes up stories in his head
Guido Contini, Luisa Contini
Number one genius and number one fan
Guido Contini, Luisa Contini
Passionate woman in love with this man
Long ago, many years ago once we two were
Guido Contini, Luisa, his lover
Actress with dreams and a life of her own
Then we had no end of worlds to discover
Singing together all night on the phone
Long ago, someone else ago Long ago, someone else ago
How he needs me so
And he'll be the last to know it
My husband makes movies
To make them he makes himself obsessed
He works for weeks on end without a bit of rest
No other way can he achieve his level best
Some men read books, some shine their shoes
Some retire early, some stay up to dream and muse
My husband only rarely comes to bed
My husband makes movies instead
My husband makes movies
