You fold your arms, roll your eyes, and spin your sports car keys
You sold a sleazy story to a gossip magazine
You throw your toys out of the pram to try and make a scene
You carelessly indulge in cosmetic surgery

You'd do anything just to be seen
Anything that gets you on a screen
You really would go to any extreme
There's no such thing as bad publicity

You are the bearer of bad news
You were the boy in the 'pick teams' that no-one would choose
Left standing in line
Better luck next time
Now you work in the wrong field
You watch your superiors to tread on their heals
You may slip through the crack
But what goes around must come back

Your head is like a lost balloon, drifting through the clouds
I'm waiting for the day it shrivels up and hits the ground
My ears are like satellites, I'm lucky as can be
Life is so convenient when you hear things digitally

You'd do anything just to be seen
Anything that gets you on a screen
You really would go to any extreme
There's no such thing as bad publicity

You are the bearer of bad news
You are a mild irritation like a stone in my shoe
You are the feeling of gloom
That empties the room
Now you take undeserved praise
You laugh and kiss money as you watch your pay raise
You are a true parasite
And you're the bane of my life