For Fame and Acclaim

Go ahead, strike a pose!
No one knows who you are
In this quixotic little bar;
Go ahead, untame yourself
Like uncontrolled flame,
After all no one will blame
Cause the name of the game
Is fame, my slipshod dame!
Go ahead, undress yourself
And press into the crowd;
They’re a loud, proud bunch,
Ready for the punch-crunch
Because they’re all drunk
And sunk into the mire afire,
Ready for a fast-blow show,
So trot on up to the stage,
You’re surely the right age;
So jump, prance and dance,
Cause they need no one fancy
To fulfill their lurid fantasy;
Yeah, I guess I will confess
That success begins with skin,
And the more shown, the more
You score with this loud crowd;
You’ve just got to sell yourself
To hear the hell-bell of success,
Then fame is yours with no one
To blame … except yourself
Buried then in your own shame.

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