I watched the guitar play, the cymbals sway
The violin go side to side
I watched the poet scream through my TV screen
Burning up in the bright spotlight
I wrote a song just as good, as a songwriter should
And it brought tears to the driest of eyes
But at the end of that day, in the place where I lay
My mind was as calm as a riot
Cause he’ll always write the words
That I wish I had thought
He’ll move ahead while I’m in the same spot
And while I’m writing my lines down
He’ll be yelling his lungs out
I know he’ll always be something that I’m not
I saw his Hollywood story, his 15 minutes of glory
Washed out, down a cocaine drain
I heard he’d been to the clinic, but always a cynic
Denied that he’d ever began
I lost my faith in the idol, broadcast for miles
And returned to my room with a pen
And at the end of that day, I could honestly say
I was glad that I wasn’t him
Cause he used to write the words
That I wished I had thought
Now I’m running while he’s losing what he’s got
And while he’s snorting those lines down
I’ll be screaming my heart out
We’ll see who ends up the winner
and who’s not
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