It's little grease paint for the balcony,
And a wait for the mezzanine,
And a smile so wide when the Angels hide in their boxes in between
All frightened, frozen in the footlight,
A starlet painted two nights
And a part too big,
And a dress too small,
The stagehands fed her lines
And it's ten, nine, eight,
Just one song off a welterweight,
Seven, eight, nine you should of seen me in my prime
And it's five, four, three,
You take a fall and grab your feet,
Three, two, one, the fight ain't over when the bells have rung
When the bells have rung
Well, she slept right through rehearsal,
The second time in as many days,
And the wide-eyed understudy wrung her hands and paced backstage
For she'd made the after-party,
She made liars of us all,
And she made her crooked entrance,
Just in time for curtain calls
And it's ten, nine, eight,
Just one song off a welterweight,
Seven, eight, nine you should of seen me in my prime
And it's five, four, three,
You take a fall and grab your feet,
Three, two, one, the fight ain't over when the bells have rung
When the bells have rung
Critics, raves and accolades,
The end still over more than
Open calls and half filled halls,
And the numbers at the door
And it's ten, nine, eight,
Just one song off a welterweight,
Seven, eight, nine you should of seen me in my prime
And it's five, four, three,
You take a fall and grab your feet,
Three, two, one, the fight ain't over when the bells have rung
When the bells have rung