SECOND THOUGHTS

Sometimes I wonder, for just a day of my life
Perhaps I’d like to be a Kardashian
Have the paparazzi chase me everywhere
Reporting on my every action

Or maybe then Paris Hilton
Arm candy on either side, moneyed and blond
Clad in designer labels head to toe
Waving my look-at-me magic wand

How about Mr Windbag Donald Trump
Loud and boorish and crass
But a billionaire to boot
Wouldn’t that buy me some class

If not, maybe another Kanye-like showman star
Every do, every gig, every bash
I’d turn up boozy and stoned at
And make a such a humungous splash

Tats and piercings in my nether regions
Jealous rivals would diss me, spewing vitriol
Selfies with fawning fans
Going viral, me flipping the bird to them trolls

I’d walk my ripped body with swag
Following me, my bootylicious WAG
Protein shakes, botox, silicon and tuck
Pumping fans’ fists, hi-fiving, not caring a fuck

Every tantrum & flash of man-boob
Every trash talking statement I make
Flashbulbs & mics in my face
And articles about how the wannabe’s such a fake

Hang out, do some OTT stunts
Chick magnet striking a crazy pose
Get some TRPs, views and shares
In my gold chains and bespoke ripped & frayed clothes

Men in black would surround me
There’d be a red carpet for my entourage
The media circus would hound me
While I would continue with my charade

Drink Grey Goose or Cristal all day in my mansion
Create a scene in every hotel suite
Be envied by all the plebs
Yet be a celeb with trending tweets

Invite people into my bedroom
Charge millions as my fee
Then call 911, have the police throw them out
And sue them for invading my privacy

Imagine, the cover of Hello magazine
Would be adorned with my face
The gossip rags would sell mega copies
Simply by me having their Page 3 to grace

Uh, no thanks, actually I’m better off
Without my 15 seconds of fame
Unknown, in my little corner of the world
And quite happy with my name