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I never knew why the other kids meant To be a doctor or a lawyer or the president All my life I aspired to be In colour on the cover of the NME I wanna pose pretty for the glossy mags The weekly journals and the cheesy rags Use my fame to blag tons of free stuff Then whinge about how life is so tough Chorus: Quite frankly, I think I could do a better job of being famous See my face in the News of the World You can say what you like, you know I'll be shameless Don't care I ever make millions I just want a gossip column link to Robbie Williams I'll have chart feuds on the six o'clock news And spout my scandal causing political views Even my substandard Christmas songs Will be money churning massive chart hits Written on the back of a Groucho Club napkin With my mate the Turner Prize-winning artist Chorus I won't burn out, I won't fade away SongtexteI'll keep my drug habits on constant display When things get harsh and they start looking grim I'll call Betty Ford and check myself in Buy a mansion with a thousand rooms Join a freaky cult that preaches doom Lecture people on the plight of the poor Then use my wealth to generate more Chorus Aus Songtexte Mania