No one to show, all that I've been through
I made myself now they rule me
Went too far I'm in too deep
Dance for me my puppet boy
No one to hold, no one to dream with
No one so bold to have a deep talk with
Know everyone, no one knows me
Gossip in rivers pollute the sea
Dance for me, play for me, sing for me my puppet boy
Bow to me, worship me, fall on your knees my puppet boy
our culture creates icons and feeds their images to us.
a person that once was flesh and blood becomes a god.
those that are the "lucky" few to achieve this eventually know that it is a thing like king midas' touch.
once you are at the top you are a prisoner to your press.
a slave to the projected image of your glamour.
i once thought i wanted it more than anything else.
now i would much rather just create music for everyone to be able to listen to.
music is a wonderful example of human creativity and ultimately a testimony to the ultimate creator.
look at what we are given... creativity from the fountainhead of all creativity. shall we then use it blithely?
in the end, music and fame are only loosly connected.
fame should be treated as a dangerous animal and while it is not in itself "wrong", we should always understand the self-consuming nature it has when it is introduced to our naturally selfish personality.