I thought it would fail,
because I just wasn't slick.
But I trained and I practiced,
and I learned all the tricks.

Then on March 31st,
I dressed in a black suit.
Topped it off with white gloves,
then went in search of my loot.

I was laughing and smiling,
gotta keep up the disguise.
Or you'll never succeed
when you're pedaling lies.

They fell right into my trap,
bought every last word.
The lines between truths
are now perfectly blurred.

I've got every one of them,
in the palm of my hand.
Simple props in my stage show,
and support for my brand.

When it's all over, I'll leave
in the smoothest of ways.
And you won't believe
what I've got planned for May.

I want to be a bona fide superstar.
With a house in Malibu,
and a garage full of fancy cars.

I'll be the hottest new thing on TV,
with two broken marriages
and three kids I hardly ever see.

In Hollywood, I'll be a cinematic force.
Earning tens of millions just to
give them back in the next divorce.

It'll be big news when I get arrested,
and the Judge lets me go
because of how much I'm invested.

If you've got the green, you've got the power
to do whatever you want to
any time, day, or hour.

Even if I get washed up and near broke,
MTV will give me
my own reality show.

That's how it works in this novel construction,
the audience feeds on conflict
and destruction.

My fans will never really know the pain.
Until they find me dead,
with a needle in my vein.

My knees are hurting,
but my hair isn't grey.
My abs aren't flat,
but I still enjoy playing sports.

I go to bed earlier,
yet I still want to have fun.
I don't move as quickly,
but I still love to dance.

I'm a littler wiser in moments,
but foolish in others.
Sometimes I'm the adult,
Sometimes I'm the kid.

I accept the fact
that middle age comes for me.
But I reserve the right
to stay young as long as I can.

I could be mad that my tire went flat,
Or thankful I have a car that runs.

I could complain how I hate my job,
Or be happy for a way to provide.

I could be mad there is no hot water,
Or thankful that it's clean.

I could complain about eating leftovers,
Or be happy my belly is full.

I could be mad I have no free time,
Or thankful for my friends.

I could complain about the faded shirt,
Or be happy I have clothes.

I could be mad about the cost of the medicine,
Or thankful I'm not staying sick.

I could complain about eating in tonight,
Or be happy the lights are still on.

I could be mad that I cannot take a vacation,
Or thankful to have a home.

I could complain about the life I think I want,
Or be happy about the blessings I have.

She cringes as the car pulls up.
Then he stomps through the door.
A grab and a slap,
and she falls to the floor.
She cries, she cries
and begs for no more.

She hears the angry voice,
and she tries in vain to hide.
Knowing the fury,
That he's holding inside.
She cries and she cries,
She's so sick of this ride.

She escapes the next night,
in a bold, daring ploy.
No longer his plaything,
No longer his toy.
She cries and she cries,
but now they're tears of joy.

What am I doing here?
I don't even know.
Just counting the cars
On the freeway below.

Feet on the sidewalk,
and hands on the rail.
My spirit is weakened,
My skin becomes frail.

The grey clouds above,
drop a torrent of rain.
A fitting addition,
to the depths of my pain.

I have no home to go to,
and no place to be.
My eyes are wide open,
but there's not much to see.

What I am doing here?
I don't even know.
Just counting the lights
as the cars pass below.

I'll hurt you,
I'll love you.

I'll kiss you,
I'll shove you.

I'll hold you,
I'll break you.

I'll caress you,
I'll shake you.

I'll harm you,
I'll crown you.

I'll honor you,
I'll drown you.