Stuporstar

Who the fuck you think you are walking like a superstar
Squawking like you knew the part but you have got obtuse and lost (yeah)
That chain is like a shiny noose you bought
It matches with the newer car you’ve got to hide the bruise and scars
You claim to be the king of hearts but never drew the card
You can buy your liqour but can’t drink up with your stupid talk
Yeah you think you’re fly, you’re hot inside a few salons
But your parachute is gone, this is where the music stops
Kristoff Krane
Who the fuck you think you are walking like a superstar
Past life burnt out — this is where the future starts
Pseudo art will no longer be sold at the supermarket
To define the poison’s like the blood that flows through Lucifer
Who you are, just a blemish, claiming you’re a beauty mark
My territory like Medusa — eight snakes through your heart (yeah)
I mean the snakes ate through your heart
Soft spots exposed every time you try to prove you’re hard