You fold your arms
Roll your eyes
And spin your sports car keys
You sold a sleazy story to
A gossip magazine
You throw your toys out of
The pram to try and make a scene
You carelessly indulge in cosmetic surgery
You'd do anything just to be seen
Anything that gets you on a screen
You really would go to any extreme
There's no such thing as bad publicity
You are the bearer of bad news
You were the boy in the pick teams
That no-one would choose
Left standing in line
Better luck next time
Now you work in the wrong field
You watch your superiors to
Tread on their heals
You may slip through the crack
But what goes around must come back
Your head is like a lost balloon
Drifting through the clouds
I'm waiting for the day it shrivels up
And hits the ground
My ears are like satellites
I'm lucky as can be
Life is so convenient
When you hear things digitally
You'd do anything just to be seen
Anything that gets you on a screen
You really would go to any extreme
There's no such thing as bad publicity
You are the bearer of bad news
You are a mild irritation
Like a stone in my shoe
You are the feeling of gloom
That empties the room
Now you take undeserved praise
You laugh and kiss money
As you watch your pay raise
You are a true parasite
And you're the bane of my life
