Death of the Celebrity

January 19, 2009
Tell me what is so special,
about a man in a room?
Twiddling his thumbs, through a day filled with gloom?
Applause and adoration,
is a walk down the path
Are you people unaware of the little talent he has?
Yet anyone with a spark, hat or hair, anyone that is fair,
you resent them, yet it is your obssesion that put them there.

Just like a parasite,
you feed of the weak,
you lurk in the shadows,
and parade them as a freak,
Abnormal they may be,
but why does that matter to you or to me?
Or are the chains of obsession locked so tight,
you are no longer free?
You say hello, I say goodbye, I prefer it cold, not like July,
But will you ever find the key, or will you even bother to try?

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