I am blinded with too many stars and bulbs

They are printed on factories and plants

To my sorrow they not only shine, but sing

Their god label, air is rating.

Their visions, all their aims and worries,

Here's the main thought of pop girls and boys…


Popular ah I am popular.


I'm scared of your empty eyes,

Your pretty-candy songs meaningless lie.

Thinking that you are a star:

I am popular I am popular.


What a vain creature you are,

Only currency keeps you alive.

Manager told that you are:

You're so popular, Oh you're so popular.


May be you baby sing better than me,

But why I want to vomit when you sing,

May be you baby get much more than me, 

But why are you still looking so cheap?


Zombies can't play truthly thaw 

Weren't make me believe you're alive

The only aim in your mind:

To be popular, oh to be popular.


What should I do What could I do

Not to get lunacy?

Where shall I run, hide under ground

From the star rain.


Belt spinning heads turning round,

Children's waiting for their sweets in time.

They're fed and you're screaming loud

Yes I am popular I am popular!


Blinded with this shooting stars 

Whatever you'll pack shit, It weren't be a sweet.

Blinded with this shooting stars 

Whatever you'll pack shit, It weren't be a sweet.

It weren't be a sweet. A sweet. A sweet