I'm through with standing in line
To clubs we'll never get in
All your life.
No one looked twice.
That's Tom. They'd say.
He'll never make anything of himself.
His daddy's loaded.
He's sitting pretty.
Probably already got a job waiting for him.
That is, if he wants it.
He has everything. He'll never know misery. It's not in his vocabulary.
It's like the bottom of the ninth
And I'm never gonna win
You never wanted it.
The life bums would kill for
The hyped up Armani suits and the
Cigars with the CEO.
This life hasn't turned out
Quite the way I want it to be
It wasn't a life.
There wasn't any substance to it.
No risk, heart pounding rush. No living.
You wanted to know the high.
The same high administered
By the
Raucous applause
Pulsating
Along with the beat
Tell me what you want
You wanted to
Feel
Taste
Touch.
Anything but this
For sure.
So what you need?
You
Need
A
Life.
You need
Admiration
Unfaltering devotion.
You need
The music
To tear
Away
The remnants
Of a life departed
Dilapidated
Despised.
I want a new tour bus full of old guitars
My own star on Hollywood Boulevard
You had the money
Shoved onto your unsuspecting
Little
Lap.
Force fed
Like a diminutive baby.
Open mouth. Insert spoon.
Swallow.
It wasn't like you
Had to
Put your name in lights
Daddy could certainly arrange it.
But
It was
What
You
Needed.
So how you gonna do it?
I'm gonna trade this life for fortune and fame
I'd even cut my hair and change my name
Your fortune.
Your fame.
All yours.
No one could challenge your accountability for it.
And nothing
Would stop you
In this plea
For dominance.
'Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars
And live in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars
A rockstar.
The American dream.
It was what you wanted to be.
It was what you needed to be,
Simple
As
That.
The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap
The women weren't why you donned the guitar
They weren't even that important
In the equation
But, a few first class playmates wouldn't hurt anything
Right?
get you anything with that evil smile
Everybody's got a drug dealer on speed dial
Eventually
You'd have to mold
Into that old stereotype
Of a drugged up scumbag
For the biz to take you serious.
And frankly,
You didn't give a flying crap.
You were completely willing.
And who knows, maybe you'd even start to enjoy it
And the disgust in yourself
Would float away
Along with
Every moral in the fiber of your being.
I'll get washed-up singers writing all my songs
Lip sync em every night so I don't get 'em wrong
And once you clawed your way to the top
Your ass would find itself a nice velvet cushion
And never again would you have to
Act like the magnanimous being
You never had been.
After all, this was never for the fans.
It was always, truly, totally, completely,
Strictly
About you.
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar
Exerpts taken from the song Rockstar by Nickelback.