The Singer.

Trying hard to hide the hurt,
I fake a smile and start to flirt.
I’ve seen her there amongst the crowd,
I ache to speak her name aloud.
But what if she should turn away,
Could I face another day?
Another day with feckless friends,
Whose simple pleasures know no ends.

Why can’t I lead a normal life,
Free from worry, free from strife.
Constant tours, different towns,
Having to face these witless clowns.
Perhaps I ought to change my ways,
I’ve had enough of endless days.
Days filled with drink and drugs and girls,
Senseless music, strobes and swirls.

I crave the solitude and calm,
To sleep alone,secure and warm.
To wake refreshed and finally free,
From all the fans who hassle me.
Signing autographs and books,
It a’int as easy as it looks,
It ebbs away your need to breathe,
Teenage girls grab at your sleeve.

They only want to see you smile,
Your face is aching in a while.
And now you can’t take any more,
You wave and hurry for the door.
But there are others waiting there,
You turn around and climb the stair.
And hurry back to your lavish suite,
Your fans and Press you cannot meet.
Not today, having just seen her,
She turned away … she didn’t care.