[basil ransome-davies]

Out of the Picture

Ah, the heartache of being an outtake,
The face on the cutting room floor,
The absence that throbs like an abscess,
A shadow or ghost, nothing more.

I'm sequestered from westerns and epics,
Not even a face in the mob.
It's monotonous being anonymous
And what's more it isn't my job,

Which is actually 'character actor',
Not an extra with no lines to spout,
But my dialogue's ripped from the film script
And my features are edited out.

They're jealous as hell, those marquee names,
Of the looks and charisma I've got,
So, beleaguered by movie-star egoes,
I'll always be just out of shot.