I’m not famous but I’m free. 
My manager left me and I lost a lot of money, but I’m longer depending on the music industry. 
I’m not famous but I’m free. 
And if I feel bad, I can find consolation in reading the biography of Leonard Cohen, 
whose manager left with about five million, 
just when he wanted to retire on a pension, 
leaving him alone with virtually nothing, and now he has to tour to have something to live on. 

This was a little story I wanted to mention, it makes me feel better by comparison. 
Like: OK, I’m fucked, but not half as bad as him. 
’Cause I’m not famous but I’m free. 
I don’t have to preprogram my songs with MIDI. 
I don’t have to plan my concerts strategically. 
I’m not famous but I’m free. 

I can still be famous in the year 3053, when my bones get discovered by the new humanity. People will wonder: who on earth was she? 
Put my body in the scanner to reveal the mystery. 
I could be the prototype of our type of homini. 
By the way, remind me to get buried with a copy of my CD. 
I could be the new Lucy of the thirty-first century. 
A major archaeological discovery. 
But for now I’m just gonna be me. 
And I’m not famous but I’m free. 

I don’t have to care what people will think of me. 
I don’t have to pretend I’m only twenty-three. 
I’m not famous but I’m free. 
Anyway, I’m too old to be Britney. 
Though Britney is actually older than me. 
Two more times to end this song cheerfully. 
I’m not famous but I’m free. 
I’m not famous but I’m free.