The Casting Couch

I’m searching for a brand new metaphor.
I think I’ve done the old ones half to death.
My trusty songbirds start to make me sick
and even sexy swans are now a bore.
Though ornithology’s our shibboleth,
shall I compare thee to a horror flick?

What would be our perfect double feature?
Am I Frankenstein or just your creature?
Are you Fay Wray atop the Empire State
while I’m the biggest monkey in the land?
The femme fatale who seals a tough guy’s fate?
The Hitchcock Blonde with scissors in your hand?
No, none of those for though it could be great
the film I’d cast you in would get us banned.