Spectacle of Life

What kind of life does a rock star. I am sure that some aspects are great, while others are pure torture. How can we love them one minute and toss them aside the next. I guess that is just life.

To learn its mood,

in this life,

is to live with all the strife,

this spectacle of life.

 

To be seen as who you are,

to live your life as a star,

to live the life,

of who you want to be.

 

To be fancy free,

without a single care,

is not the life,

that comes with this fare.

 

For it is a life of pressure,

and of pain,

with no privacy to your name,

for you are the star of fame.

 

People adore you near and far,

they covet your presence,

wherever you are,

for you are their idol to be worshiped from afar.

 

You have no social life,

only with your own kind,

for they are you petty friends,

who drink up your wine.

 

With no morals,

only lust,

to work only when they must,

living off your royalties thus.

 

But you work hard,

to gain your fame,

a legend in your own game,

to be a god to proclaim.

 

For they follow you,

as you tour the cities,

giving you flowers,

and lots of pretties.

 

They throw themselves,

at your door,

 to be there,

for your amore.

 

But you manage to survive,

you run the gantlet,

to stay alive,

live with the fear you hide.

 

As all with the end,

the money is gone,

so are your friends,

as you go off the deep end.

 

You use drugs and booze,

to hide the pain,

but they still find you again,

for you are still the god they love.

 

Only here to help you with love,

to bring you back to your first place,

but love is a fickle thing,

you must grab it when you can.

 

For love is what you need,

to keep you sane,

to reign you in,