On With The Show Poem by Isabelle Parkes

Neon lights and flashing signs,
Ten-feet ads, looking mighty fine,
I hear he’s singing there tonight,
I hear she dumped him, she was right,
Going nowhere in a limousine,
Living on the covers of magazines,
Drugs sold on the corners and inside the bar,
Lining your pockets and stashed in your car,
Almost in packets and stacked on the shelves,
Next to the soap in the expensive hotel.
A bottle in your hand and a shine in your eye,
That two-for-one deal gets you every time,
Sober up for the press and the red carpet ride,
Screaming fans and cameras rolling in on a tide;
Flashing lights and that smile, it’s really quite absurd
That you’re stunning them all without saying a word.

Ain’t no business like show business,
A new victim every day,
Ain’t no witness like that witness,
Determined to put you away,
Ain’t no business like show business,
And that’s a relief,
Can you imagine others like it?
The infamy is permanent; the fame is oh-so brief.

They want to be what just a few are,
And steal a few seconds with you in your car,
Food? What is that? Won’t it make me fat?
Coz I need to be so thin so I can chase round the brat
That is so like me when I was young,
And probably still will be by the time that I’m done
Telling him who he should be and how he’s supposed to look.
One day he’ll probably be a star and then he’ll write a book;
A whole heap of pictures and pages of nothing.
To your family and friends you’re not even worth trusting,
And you say you feel so sad about the problems of the poor,
Then call in security when they come knocking at your door.
It was so hard growing up, you only had five cars,
And it’ll get worse when you’re older (the tattoos leave scars) .
Nobody lives with their feet on the ground,
But somehow they manage to keep walking around.