Flies On...

Who's she fuck? Who'd he marry?
 Is her bush bald or furry?
 What did she snort? Date in court?
 Will she pay child support?
 Dirty photos, sex tapes?
 Was it statutory rape?
 I'm so invisible but they're not
 They're so beautiful but I'm not
 They have so much talent and talent's what I lack
 I know so much about them, even more than my own friends
 I want to be them, live their life, own their houses, fuck their wives
 A VIP at the top of the A-list,
 Travel in style, wear their clothes, pour cocaine up my nose
 Get off with a slap on the wrist
 I'm no longer lonely, they make me so much more
 I stalk them and crave their life with every pore
 And when they fuck up, it's so much more than me
 Either way I get rich on their fame currency
 I want to be them, live their life, own their houses, fuck their wives
 A VIP at the top of the A-list,
 Travel in style, wear their clothes, pour cocaine up my nose
 Get off with a slap on the wrist
 Pain killers and cocaine, off to rehab to abstain
 Is she lesbian, is he gay? Sexual preference is a little gray
 Paparazzi and bruises, never runs out of excuses
 Always plagued by depression, watch my teary-eyed confession
 All is forgiven if you confess out loud,
 the only beast in the arena is the crowd
 As we gloat and mock their shame,
 we're just pretending that we are not the same
 They are nothing without us, we make them what they are
 A symbiotic relationship
 They are nothing without us, we make them what they are
 We are just flies on their shit