Protagonist - They Might Be Giants

She stole my daydreams
She stole my air guitar
Exterior Man on lawn alone at dawn
Packed the typewriter
And drove off in her car
A battered automobile drives past state line sign
And now I know that I'll rue the day
I let her get away
I need a haircut
I've got myself to blame
A gloved hand spins a combination
Dial quickly opening a large wall safe
He wasn't so fine
To my beginner's mind
Motel The other man severe refined
But with that big talk
I should have seen the signs
Woman enters and they embrace He packs duct tape rope
And right on her he was fixing his aim
He pushed me out of frame
I need new head shots
I've got myself to blame
She spins her ring to hide the diamond in her hand
And drops a gun into a small beaded purse
Know the diff between a script and a spec
It's a test just the stage directions left
And no camera angles to use mm-hmm
A novice script may seem strange in this format
But like any other business
It's a standard that the writer gets used to aw-huh
My scenes are cut out
I'm just on speaker phone
For exposition
I'm out here on my own
And as the night falls on this sleepy town
The iris closes down
I missed my close-up
I've got myself to blame
I've got myself to blame
I've got myself to blame