That lizard which creeps, thru his bones everyday
And bathes in his blood, strays in his veins, astray
A superstar now, lives at Glory Street
That lizard, his fame, not a pet dog, at his feet
But the orgy of heart, that owns this celebrity
Who rose from rags, adored to death, by the city!
His face is the sheen, of all glossy magazines
There ain’t any tantrum, beyond his means
Did he cough or sneeze? Is the news in dailies!
A heartthrob who throbs, hearts of servile ladies
Was he destined to be, world’s toy of joy?
Or son of fluke, or martyr, to a myth’s ploy
At days, he suckles on media, daily dose of thrills
Restive nights, are cradled, on piles of mandrax pills
Oh! He is the fixation, rubbernecked at, by everyone
In this swarming city, where man stands outrun
He ain’t any different, though, in this…
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