Dear Mr.Rockstar, Up Yours

So let’s go home, I’m tired of being for show
You’re no fun, I’m tired of your game
But I guess you don’t mind as long as you get your fame

I don’t miss you, just so you
And I’m not torn up about letting you go
I left the venue, and don’t plan on coming backing

I’m not a groupie, a mindless whore
So that my love is why I showed myself the door
You’ve got your fame, but you haven’t got me?

Well here’s a postcard to bring you from your shock
“Dear darling boy, I’m doing fine;
Hey baby boy do you were you were mine?”

I guess it’s short but it’s to the point
And that’s all you ever wanted from anyone
Right?

No silly love letters or bouquets of roses
Just leaving me all alone
I guess your plan went off without any hitches

My birthday is just another day,
But I’ll never tell myself you forgot
I’ll cross my t’s and dot my i’s

Because right now it’s all I’ve got
You got your fame, played a great game
But right now baby I’m giving you the blame

To shallow to see that we were never a used to be
Never a has been or never was
Wait one second lets hit pause

I’d like to remind you of our clause
The one where if you break my heart
I get to tear you apart?

That one exactly
I remember it down to perfect punctuation
But this isn’t a time for celebration

This short little poem will never reach you
So blare the speakers and pass the booze

When you’re living the life of a rock star
You don’t have to mind your p’s and q’s
Because you’ve got people and that’s all they do

Well this is bye honey it’s probably time for you to go
Got to go play that other show?
I sincerely hope you’re happy with your blonde bimbo
Not.