Not Really a Rebel
The rock and roll scene gets to all..
While some succeed, most do fall..
Across the globe, they pop out from nowhere..
Telling the world how they dont care..
The fans go crazy at these guys..
Yuppy kids with jeans hanging off thighs..
A tattoo and a guitar is all you need..
That and lyrics no one can read..
Its a wacky crazy life I hear..
There’s wine, women and wealth to spare..
Those kisses that they throw in the air..
Make hearts flutter of many a maiden fair..
But all good things come to an end..
Most of them end up lonely around the bend..
In the solitude of their golden years they lie..
Often in pain wishing to just die..
I got the tattoo but no guitar..
I dont have a voice or the funky car..
Guess the rebel in me must be content..
That I can afford the next months rent..