this is your brain on fame

she's the people's choice and big money's crack baby
she has no face
sold it years ago to the industry
for a generous paycheck and a spot on BET Late Night
where her body is both shown off and shared
you'll know she's coming
dollar bills fall in her footsteps and camera flashes are her fanfare
her favorite melody is the cha-ching of the cash register
after successful transactions

satisfaction is what young girls see when they look at her
wishing they could have the boys follow behind them like
back-up dancers, like she does
and i watch them grow up
in houses with distorted mirrors
and shattered self esteem
sitting right next to the television

and it breaks my heart to hear them say they
think they're in love with their radio, not knowing
there are subliminal messages in the static that could hurt them
and i want to march over, turn down the music
and tell them i walked down that
boulevard of broken dreams
the stars in my eyes blinding me
and i couldn't see that
i was building an altar to an american idol
couldn't tell that
my self was the sacrifice
that the quest for fast cars and easy money
was stealing my identity
i was willing to
sell my face to the industry
for a generous paycheck
not realizing what it would cost me in the process

but i'm better now
have since repented
turned from an uncertain unhappy little girl
into the beautiful woman that i always was
and i decided that i'd rather
have a fistful of monopoly money and keep my head held high
than make it rain real dollars and lose my face.