Pictures with strangers, perhaps with the fame
I haven’t been the same; unrecognizable even with
all these fans screaming my name
There’s always a price to entertain
I entered into a much louder desperation out of my
old depression's gate. But still lying about feeling great
Still I’m among all of the greats; those who've tasted fame
Anyways, one lick of it made me sick— thick legs always
any easy pick, but I never thought I’d call someone a *****
It’s quite rich, like I am; still with his poor tastes
All these make-ups on a face; making up for your pain
make up *** made up ideas from sexting texts
It felt a given, it would all take away my innocence
Feeling caught always in the thrill of them cheering my
brilliance; masking how it kills my feelings
To now feeling more worried about my appealing
“How’s my appearance,” factoring those experiences
would they still take me less than serious
Sort of shook hands with the president
Still preferred the picture; not being in a picture with him,
looking like I live on his immoral morals like a resident
Paranoid paradise: so relaxed on being anxious
The camera flashes always judge my actions,
calling me old fashioned. Not fashioned in those factions
Overthinking what to put under my caption
Capture a moment, but the camera lens is the only forever
lasting smile; soon I’ll be turning into Mr Passive
Still I had a passion, beforehand
Fame served me a lot to handle in a forehand, nobody
understands the grip of fame in Hollywood’s tight hand
Serving you free chicken
******* and thighs— Bets and thongs, a high supply
of different women. Swallowing their pride and your children
A million dollar tub, but still feeling filthy
“Oh really, you think you can have your soul back,”
the devil now outside, once only one within me
I made a deal to die at fifty
Knowing the fame won’t last me that long, feeding myself
to an empty richness. So **** greedy!
But hey, I guess I made it
What would have been the chances; still if only I had
waited a little longer for God’s right answers.
But hey mama, I’m famous...
Jan 23, 2023
Jan 23, 2023 at 3:15 PM UTC
Pictures with strangers, perhaps with the fame
I haven’t been the same; unrecognizable even with
all these fans screaming my name
There’s always a price to entertain
I entered into a much louder desperation out of my
old depression's gate. But still lying about feeling great
Still I’m among all of the greats; those who've tasted fame
Anyways, one lick of it made me sick— thick legs always
any easy pick, but I never thought I’d call someone a *****
It’s quite rich, like I am; still with his poor tastes
All these make-ups on a face; making up for your pain
make up *** made up ideas from sexting texts
It felt a given, it would all take away my innocence
Feeling caught always in the thrill of them cheering my
brilliance; masking how it kills my feelings
To now feeling more worried about my appealing
“How’s my appearance,” factoring those experiences
would they still take me less than serious
Sort of shook hands with the president
Still preferred the picture; not being in a picture with him,
looking like I live on his immoral morals like a resident
Paranoid paradise: so relaxed on being anxious
The camera flashes always judge my actions,
calling me old fashioned. Not fashioned in those factions
Overthinking what to put under my caption
Capture a moment, but the camera lens is the only forever
lasting smile; soon I’ll be turning into Mr Passive
Still I had a passion, beforehand
Fame served me a lot to handle in a forehand, nobody
understands the grip of fame in Hollywood’s tight hand
Serving you free chicken
******* and thighs— Bets and thongs, a high supply
of different women. Swallowing their pride and your children
A million dollar tub, but still feeling filthy
“Oh really, you think you can have your soul back,”
the devil now outside, once only one within me
I made a deal to die at fifty
Knowing the fame won’t last me that long, feeding myself
to an empty richness. So **** greedy!
But hey, I guess I made it
What would have been the chances; still if only I had
waited a little longer for God’s right answers.
But hey mama, I’m famous...
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