We all do things for money
When we’re naïve and young.
They told me I’d regret it.
They said the time would come
When I’d want to do something serious,
Wouldn't want to be bubbles and fun.
But I played to young boys magazines
And all their advice I shunned.
You see me now in knock off bins
And bootlegs DVDs.
I’m never on embossed invites,
But flyers for wannabes.
Not known for my straight talking style
But for my curves that please.
The suggestion is that of a good time –
One for which there isn't a fee.
The boys queue up to read Her now.
Just watch her rising star.
Taller, thinner, simpler than me.
I’m sure that she’ll go far.
I feel I should have warned her
Out the goodness of my heart
That the life of a typecast typeface
Will drive you to the bar.
(co-written by Tenby. Copyright and ownership asserted)
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