the actor bows to a crowd
so completely in another age
stumbles toward a pale room
turn another page
the pulsing of the gauge
the eyes turning to her frame
and all that he saved
from the roles he played
he looks to the door
and finds it no longer a race
he is looking through the door
and finds it no longer a race
the light is partially glazed
silence of the screen
the line they cannot read
and it's contrary to belief
the browning of the page
from all the yesterdays
he looks to the door
and finds it no longer a race
he is looking through the door
and finds it no longer a race
eyes to a frame
are all he saved
eyes to her frame
are all he saved
he looks to the door
and find it no longer a race
he is looking through the door
and finds it no longer a race