Pop Star

She thought she’s do a solo project
Thought she’d lose the clowns
Who stifled her creatively
And only weighed her down

Regurgitated some old riffs
And no one would be wiser
If she added drum machines
And a synthesizer

Wore a see through jumpsuit that
Was made of fishnet mesh
Sequined grapes covered her crotch
Some pasties at the breasts

Learned some simple hip hop moves
To keep up with the fad
Hired dancers that seemed not
To make her look too bad

And even though not needed they
Thought it most opportune
To make it more commercial by
Adding some autotune

And when they’d ask ’bout her new stuff
She’d call it country funk
With classical and jazz thrown in
Of course a bit of punk

But soon enough the jig was up
As she climbed to the top
She’d given up, surrendered to
Be labeled simply pop

And in just a few years from now
Your kids prob’ly won’t get
The irony of what they find
Scrolling the internet

And finding the old pictures will
They ever understand
Why that pop star looks just like the girl
Who played in that rock band