You can stop genuflecting to her. Contrary to folklore, she does not have a third eye in the back of her head to see how faithfully you worship her.
She will never drop the sword to confer any knighthoods in her array to reward your slicing through the doubters who might temper their enthusiasm for her house music opus with even the smallest shadow of criticism.
She will not breathe brimstone at the haters who say maybe she and her friends do not need to use that private jet like the rest of us run to the store.
She will not put in a good word with the Tony Awards committee for the way you wept breathlessly when you heard her wailing through the scales over her latest award-winning divorce.
She is not reading the reviews or counting the stars from starry-eyed critics who give her a mulligan on memes over melodies and call her an immortal goddess, a phoenix who never had to endure the indignity of death in the first place, just to escape her dead-eyed laser smote.
She’s just a person, and she’s never gonna be your friend.
No comments:
Post a Comment