He came along with a smile, like the devil.
Walked a mile, to dig my grave, with his golden shovel.
He held out for the blessing of the thighs,
Begging on his knees, for all the white lies.
Now he’s flying away, in his jet plane,
Carrying with him all my soulful dreams.
He’s flying away to his palace, where he’ll reign.
Folding all the weak of heart, with his evil schemes.
He’s the superstar, not quite what we are,
Singing for all the world.
He’s the hero player, lacking the layer
That erases all his heart.
He’s the superstar, not ever who we are,
Pretending for all the hordes.
He haunts me like a ghost without a home,
Following me along all my roads, wherever I roam.
He burns inside my belly, like a wanton flame,
Playing his guitar strings, the puppet me, in his game.
Then the night came long with a wild frosted chill,
He wandered back to place familiar for his usual thrill.
He reached out for the angel, to give him his kiss,
But she walked away, unforgiving of his ignorant bliss.
He’s the superstar, not quite what we are
Singing for all the world.
He’s the hero player, lacking the layer
That erases all his heart.
He’s the superstar, not ever who we are
Pretending for all the hordes.
He’s the idol radio heartthrob,
That I got good, to hold in my arms.
Written by Barbara Doduk September 17, 1999