Just show biz!

Fight! Like your life depends in it… because it does

You’re our grand prize, prize winning w**** and “we love you”. No your fans love you we love the publicity, s***ty sex ring circus act.

But its all an
Act






We love the crescendo best. So let your fears sky rocket you to new heights until you see the euphoric new heights until you see the stars for what they really are.

And the pitter patter of your broken soul will flow smoothly three the pattern of your tears, life. Is nothing more than a sad story after all.


Sad that you fell so easily into our trap so willingly at first, so ready to mimicking your favorite old celebrities.




They have made a sad show of me, I’m there star performing puppet and they love to play marionette, pulling at my strings. And you see the strings but you delude yourself into thinking it’s just an
Act.
Letting my screams and pleas tear at our ear drums like a violent symphony of exasperation, the bass line of my desperation playing the crescendo of little drummer through my pulse.








Sad that a dream so innocent could be persecute one so malevolently

Sad that I crave and cling to this pain,





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