! REPORT
Rise of a Modern Rock Star
3D Render by MelMaverickThis is a post I made for a poetry publication on Medium a few years back.
"Rise of a Modern Rock Star"
Couldn’t finish school.
Didn’t want no job.
Found a way to be
a million dollar slob.
Screamin’ in a mic
just to get my kicks.
Only thing I needed -
couple homies and a mix.
Got my best friend on the sound board,
and my cousin on the drums.
Gonna rock until we make it.
We're tired of eatin’ crumbs.
Money heard me singin’
Said, “Son I love the rage.
You're a little short on brains,
but you're lightin’ up the stage."
“Do just what I tell you,
and I’ll take you to the top."
So I sold my ass to Sony,
now the party never stops.
Runnin’ with the players,
hangin’ with the stars.
Shouldn’t be much longer,
I’ll be back behind those bars.
My rap sheet keeps on growin’,
I just smile and give a shrug.
I own a Learjet and a pilot,
but I’m still a two-bit thug.
Twenty-thousand singles,
they all sound just the same.
Need a lawyer on my payroll
‘cause I still can’t spell my name.
Don’t care that it’s the same tune
we keep shovin’ in the ground.
It’s the spotlight and the fortune
that keeps the ladies ‘round.
Now I need someone to tell me
where to go and what to be.
A photo shoot, then on the road -
another concert spree.
Ain’t got no time to wipe the
leather footprints off my back.
Can’t bite the hand that feeds me,
‘cause I’m just a music hack.
So I’m takin’ what they’re givin’.
I’m dealin’ with the heat.
Keep pumpin’ up this garbage,
or I’m back out on the street.
Gonna burn out like a rocket
if I keep up with this pace.
To them it doesn’t matter -
plenty more to take my place.
"Rise of a Modern Rock Star"
Couldn’t finish school.
Didn’t want no job.
Found a way to be
a million dollar slob.
Screamin’ in a mic
just to get my kicks.
Only thing I needed -
couple homies and a mix.
Got my best friend on the sound board,
and my cousin on the drums.
Gonna rock until we make it.
We're tired of eatin’ crumbs.
Money heard me singin’
Said, “Son I love the rage.
You're a little short on brains,
but you're lightin’ up the stage."
“Do just what I tell you,
and I’ll take you to the top."
So I sold my ass to Sony,
now the party never stops.
Runnin’ with the players,
hangin’ with the stars.
Shouldn’t be much longer,
I’ll be back behind those bars.
My rap sheet keeps on growin’,
I just smile and give a shrug.
I own a Learjet and a pilot,
but I’m still a two-bit thug.
Twenty-thousand singles,
they all sound just the same.
Need a lawyer on my payroll
‘cause I still can’t spell my name.
Don’t care that it’s the same tune
we keep shovin’ in the ground.
It’s the spotlight and the fortune
that keeps the ladies ‘round.
Now I need someone to tell me
where to go and what to be.
A photo shoot, then on the road -
another concert spree.
Ain’t got no time to wipe the
leather footprints off my back.
Can’t bite the hand that feeds me,
‘cause I’m just a music hack.
So I’m takin’ what they’re givin’.
I’m dealin’ with the heat.
Keep pumpin’ up this garbage,
or I’m back out on the street.
Gonna burn out like a rocket
if I keep up with this pace.
To them it doesn’t matter -
plenty more to take my place.
Rise of a Modern Rock Star
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