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
I'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