I’m totally buggin’, and I’ve broken three nails,
As if I drank the strengthener instead of triple-coating,
I always seem to be doing the wails,
And you never seem to stop gloating,
Look, I’m not totally green-eyed,
But you’re living off your fab voice,
And now you’re stuck to the back of my door,
You seemed so sweet and innocent, but you lied,
Your stickly thin bod is really noice,
But what you had coming I should have saw.
Another tear falls as I see another one of your clips,
As I watch my legs begin to ache,
You must have connectable hips,
The feeling of dying I cannot shake,
It would be so easy to turn the screen off now,
Make you go away and let me ease,
If I make everything go dark I can sleep,
You really seem like a cow,
The remote I begin to seize,
But I cannot press the button and hear the beep.
I cannot make you shut up,
I cannot hear myself think,
Listening to the kickin’ beat, my hands form a cup,
I begin to sway and dance and then sink,
When I am your age, I won’t look half as good,
I will either look like grandma or totally fat,
Unlike some I don’t have a make-up team,
I won’t have beauty throughout the ages, no one could,
Everyone else turns out pale and a rat,
Who knows what tomorrow will beam.
I could sing to you, well along with you,
Not by a microphone or karaoke neither,
I could write my own lyrics too,
All though it may be a little retarded and confusing either,
I’ll still sing like a total rock star,
Though we both know you got where you are by flashing your assets,
I still decide you’re my idol,
Though you drive a totally hot car,
And I can only afford cassettes,
In front of my mirror I think of you at your finest and I model.
O Britney, what a mess you’ve made,
First one wedding, then another,
And didn’t I hear you say ‘until marriage I’d get laid’.
And now you have become a mother,
Little Sean, what a life you will have,
This must have been the sweetest feeling,
A baby to carry forever,
Another thing God gave,
Once more there is a reason for the monster inside of me to leave me kneeling,
When you know what you do to me will be never.
Some more I listen, for the hundredth time round,
I have been in love with the fact that baby; I can hit you one more time,
But if I could ever have the luxury of once hearing the punching sound,
As I listen to your rhymes, I begin to mime,
And it happens again, I break out into a stylin’ dance,
But unlike you, no one will ever see or copy me,
I will just be the weirdo who embarrasses herself,
At the TV I start to glance,
You never have to know of how these feelings make you be,
The highest note you let go, and my pitch kills itself.
You weren’t meant for my pauper’s life,
People scraping up their coins to buy your new album doesn’t get you down,
There was probably someone gorgeous like you back in the old days, another wife,
But you have to admit you have to been acting like a clown,
Who could forget Madonna?
Or your annulment after a couple of hours,
And the fact that you ever dated a boy band member,
Your magic sends me Luna,
Copying your dance moves, I’m so glad you’ve allows,
I wonder if you are touring in September.
I am glad I’m still watching, I begin to realise,
Talent, you truly are,
But I will never measure up to your size,
Who else could get their leg up that high without leaving a scar?
Famous you are, like Marilyn Monroe,
I’m no longer buggin’ about it, on this Mon.,
You totally deserve to be where you’re at,
‘Oops, I did it again’ could be the anthem of our generation,
To your o-so-sweet tune, do I keep listening, or fall asleep on the mat?
“Ode to a Nightingale”
by John Keats