You are rockstar in your own mind

The truth however is unkind

playing an ancient air guitar

shining a burnt out old star

how many opportunities lost

how many potential friends never found

you are a run down old car

with worn out old trainers

a wreck who’s pained, yeah

with guilt if he’d but think

of all the hearts he’s broken

he charge down the road to give them all his love

instead of a mere token

his fire not awoken for years

the tears which would stain his pillow

would weep like a weeping willow

old before his time addicted to his history

His story no more than ordinary

but he fakes it till he makes it all the time

but if being rock star in your own mind

is a crime

he’s a death row criminal

but he’s done so little it’s minimal.