| I lived a life and cast myself a role
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| I played a part of my own devising
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| I played it well, too well for healthy soul
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| Believing in my fantasizing.
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| When all around me cheered and chanted
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| I took the accolade
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| I sold the lonely loser’s wisdom
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| Of clay and wattle made
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| Of clay and wattle made.
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| The actor, the actor, the actor.
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| My character he loved the crowded nights
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| The easy pleasures of the rise to fame
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| The hardest acting still was yet to come
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| As high he rise, as far he fall again.
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| When all around me cheered and chanted
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| I played the masquerade
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| The teeny girls, they screamed and panted
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| Too many bows he made
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| Too many bows he made.
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| The actor, the actor, the actor.
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| After a while the show came off the road
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| Settling down for the very first time
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| Man in the mirror with his make-up off
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| Gone from his lip, the sad magical rhyme.
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| No more around him cheered and chanted
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| He shun the big parade
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| Now he sounding weird and slanted
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| A slave of his trade
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| A slave of his trade.
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| The actor, the actor, the actor.
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| Phoenix he rises from the cleansing flame
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| Shedding the skin of past pretending
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| Fully awakened, he cast off his frown
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| Happily naked, uncontending.
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| And all around him cheering, chanting
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| A wiser fool is he
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| The teeny kids in new wave ranting
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| Slum heroes to be.
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| And all around him cheering, chanting
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| A wiser fool is he
|
| The teeny kids in new wave ranting
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| Slum heroes to be
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| Slum heroes to be.
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| The actor, the actor, the actor. |