Superstar of the apocalypse

You made your mark, well you hit your fix

you shared your pics, well they’re tasteful not sick
on the cover of your magazine, you’re the beauty queen
for those you burn and the kudos you earn
when will Britiain ever learn
praise at her feet well she’s the bitch
you call this freedom well that’s sodding rich
you sell to me, the opportunity
for me to be
whatever you feel I should be
I got no wants and I ain’t got no yearns
you sapped my will when I was eager to learn
now who is wrong, well that’s hard for me to discern
unadultarated deflating me you cow
take not I’m on the prowl
so you’re the superstar? should I kowtow
Superstar of the apocalypse is what you are
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