Fame s Fragile Facade

A cycle of poems «Everything Hurts and I Am Almost Famous»

They sold me dreams in neon, signed my soul in dotted lines,
Now I’m just a barstool prophet with a head full of goodbyes.
The cameras flash like lightning, but the thunder never stays,
Just a hollow laugh that echoes through my empty masquerade.

I wear my heart on billboards, but the glue is coming loose,
A collage of my failures in a gallery of bruise.

Oh, fame’s fragile facade,
It’s a glitter-covered razorblade.
They love you when you’re shining bright,
Then leave you when the spark dies.
I’m a headline, then a ghost,
Just another name they’ll miss the most.
But the spotlight’s just a noose,
And I’m dangling from the truth.

My reflection’s in the tabloids, but I don’t know who I see,
A stranger with my face and all my fears on magazine sheets.
The afterparties deafen, but the silence cuts the worst,
A million screaming voices and I’m dying from the thirst.

They raise you like a monument, then watch you as you fall,
A cautionary epitaph scrawled on a bathroom wall.

Oh, fame’s fragile facade,
It’s a glitter-covered razorblade.
They love you when you’re shining bright,
Then leave you when the spark dies.
I’m a headline, then a ghost,
Just another name they’ll miss the most.
But the spotlight’s just a noose,
And I’m dangling from the truth.

Maybe glory’s just a graveyard where the lonely go to scream,
A trophy made of shattered glass and gasoline-drenched dreams.
I’ll set it all on fire just to feel the warmth again,
‘Cause nothing’s colder than the love you buy from so-called friends.

Oh, fame’s fragile facade,
It’s a gilded cage, a loaded gun.
They’ll chant your name like it’s a prayer,
Then forget you when you’re not there.
I was almost everything,
Now I’m just the wreckage left to sing:
"The higher that you climb, the farther you’ve got to fall."