The sellout crowd comes pouring in
And paves your path to fame;
At last, upon the center stage
You know you’ve won your game!
Each lonely heart within the crowd
Will watch with jealousy
As you are given adoration
And wear it like a queen—
Like each of them, you wanted this,
To hear their words of praise;
And now you’ve reached the zenith of
A life upon the stage!
But here, upon the pedestal,
Not much has really changed;
The crowds will watch your every move
But they won’t bear your pain—
Like each of them, your heart’s still empty,
And can’t be satisfied,
’Cause it is love you really need
To fill the ache inside.
The sellout crowd will sing your praises
And all will know your name,
But loneliest of hearts is yours
Upon the stage of fame.
And you could tell each one of them
(Because you know it well)
That fame is really nothing more
Than a ritzy room in hell.
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