We idolize the prima donnas,
The braggadocio money makers,
The free Masonic narcissists,
With blood diamonds on their wrists,
The ego eccentric, pop messiahs,
That sing our souls to sleep,
The entertainers of fantasy,
That numb our minds to apathy,
It’s the new religion of the celebrity, the worship of ones vanity,
Sucking our souls into the tube with lethargy,
Coz all this time we’re kept entertained, so we forget that we are slaves,
Trapped inside Plato’s cave, flicking channels until the grave.

They tell us what to be,
They show us what to dream,
They sell us Vanity,
Through a screen.

The Gods wear Versace,
The Gods snort cocaine,
The Gods sing fuck songs,
The Gods are celebrities.

You’re the mogul of mass desire,
The superficial vogue messiah,
The branded god of vanity,
The manufactured deity,
Her majesty the queen of lust,
Wearing the face of the status quo,
Masquerading the shallow dream,
Projecting paradise through a screen,
The Disney rhyming bling fiend,
The queen whore of decadent dreams,
The inauthentic role model,
With a procession that will follow,
The clich? pop parade,
With lullabies to keep them dazed,
Dazed and confused, by their muse,
Mind abused.

Show us what to be,
Show us what to be,
Tell us what to feel,
Show us what to be.

I want lots of money,
I wonna take drugs,
I wonna fuck bitches,
I wonna be like you.

You’re the chosen one, the demigod,
They worship you in the holy wood,
Bowing down at your ego shrine,
Praying to your fame divine,
Coz monkey will see and monkey will do,
Monkey will try and emulate like you,
As you slowly debase the soul with apathy,
You’re the one they want to be as they become mirrors of your vanity,
Imitating your depravity, mimicking your obscenity,
The holders of the light set the trends of mass desire,
The glory of the few shapes the dreams of the many.

They tell us what to be,
They show us what to dream,
They sell us vanity,
Through a screen.