In the dear good Lord's millennial year All the happy nice folks celebrate with cheer. Three brave youths decided, shaking off their fear To make a film, not less, possibly not dear. Early in the morning they go to the shore Watching the people is really quite a bore. For lunch they only eat dry bread, nothing more Desperate and clueless, much more than before. Their next inspiration should come from a sign, They've a producer, but not a single line. They fight every second: 'Hey, this film is mine!' Poor actor just stands there and tries doing fine. On the river's cold bank flutters a soaked dove, This film will certainly not be one of love. Farther than the two shores stretch from each other Stands the script from at last getting a cover. (not an excerpt from the film)