Song: Prisoners Of Fame Poem by Dave SmithWhite

The fast cars and women;
The rock star acclaim.
These are a given,
For a prisoner of fame.
A young man is driven,
To make a great name.
With the talent and ambition,
But a prisoner of fame.

In the anonymous city,
Of Hieronymus Bosch.
The price of celebrity,
Will come at some cost.
Walking the gardens,
Of earthly delight;
Meeting with demons,
Who inhabit the night.

The half-naked figures,
Tortured and damned.
The slings and the arrows,
Of heroes unmanned.
Getting used to the rigors,
Of deep mortal shame.
These are the triggers,
For the prisoners of fame.

When the spotlight is dimmin',
And you're moved out of frame.
And you'll never be forgiven,
For what you became.
And your poor head is swimmin',
Yet all is the same.
The common herd's thinnin',
With the virus enflamed.

Prisoners of fame,
Are thrown a curve ball.
There are many to blame,
To whom we're in thrall.
Prisoners of fame,
As we go the long haul;
Survivors are maimed,
As we all choke on gall.

Prisoners of fame.
The lockdown recalls:
With our spirits untamed,
Restrained but appalled.
Prisoners of fame.
Now vistas are small.
Plans are too lame;
The future is stalled!