New Day, Wake Up

Put on… Make Up

Get on with the Show

Light up, Stop Pacing

Heart racing Home

Tell me, does anybody know

How to kill/fill the time before the show

Cause that’s right, I’ve seen, behind

The bright lights, and the inbetweens

And that’s why, I know

It’s all just going on for the Show

These nights, all I’ve seen

Are Pop Stars & Movie Queens

With their Die-Hards and the Go-Betweens

There’s an entourage stretching back for a mile

To find friends in this mixed up scene

Is easy, if by friends you mean

The fickle-fingered hypocritic sycophants

Who flit between the echelons of Wanna-Be’s and Also-Ran’s

With posh drugs, group hugs, overdubbed with empty smiles and plastic faces

Ignore their eyes, believe their lies… These are the guys that are going places now

So break down, or break up

Scrape down, all that fucking make-up

Cause that’s right, I know

It’s all just going on for the Show

Whilst somewhere, in a backroom lies

The body of a broken boy who died too soon

Where a stout heart, And a good tune became

A broken heart with no room to breath