The Pop Star

So now you’re famous the fans dote on you
Every word you sing or utter is utterly true
Adulation adoration was what you once desired
Now it rankles irks and grates, makes you angry, tired
Can’t go to pubs can’t walk the streets
And the girls beneath your silken sheets
Want you but not for who you are
Not the man but just the star

They run to the papers sell their story
Of sex filled nights like Roman orgy
Steeped in alcohol swamped with drugs
It’s the lies, half truths that really bugs
Paparazzi crawl like vermin
Your every indiscretion earning
Vast amounts for photographs
To provide a few salacious laughs
For morons reading gutter press
And leave you suffering from the stress

But fame is brief my friend in time
A very different note you'll chime
You’ll be a legend before ere long
And sagacity your own theme song
A guest on chat shows your every word
Respected and though it seems absurd
You’ll long for those days ‘way back when’
And yearn to do it all again!