No. 3

You bit off more than you could chew
Now you’ll choke, turn a shade of blue
Those gilded years, yeah they were gold
And like rust you’re getting old
Shaking hands with Mr. Suchandsuch
Our bones turn brittle at the touch
Oh, the pleasure it is ours
Where do I sign to be a star?
Well what did you expect?
I think I know how it ends
Though my idols may be dead
They’re alive and well in my head
It doesn’t seem like I’ve matured
Things are losing their allure
I don’t pick up on social cues
If there’s a fire I’m the fuse
I appreciate all the advice
But our time’s up, it’s been nice
Well what did you expect?
I think I know how it ends