Verse 1 The projector coughs at midnight The curtains smell like rain Row thirteen keeps on laughing Though nobody knows their names The picture bends sideways Every shadow grows too tall And something in the balcony Keeps scratching at the wall Chorus Midnight at the crooked screen Nothing lands where it should be Heroes enter from the ceiling Villains drown in scenery If the picture starts to tremble Baby, don’t correct the scene That’s when movies start behaving At the crooked screen Verse 2 The projectionist is sleeping With his boots upon the desk While Cleopatra fights a robot In a badly painted West The soundtrack loses twenty years Then catches up again And every time the splice mark burns Somebody whispers, “Amen.” Bridge A tiny gospel choir Rises underneath the floor Singing for the broken frames That no one wanted anymore Final Chorus Midnight at the crooked screen Where perfection comes apart Every scratch becomes a halo Every mistake becomes an art Let the multiplex go spotless We prefer the dirt between Come and lose your good intentions At the crooked screen
