Mark, your comments are right on target.I feel the same way. I am currently writing a song, actually a trilogy, The Songwriter/ The Star Performer/ The Fan ,about this topic.I keep thinking of this performer as the "anti-Gord"
Here is a verse or two from "The Songwriter"
Take down my old guitar from the wall
Look deep into my crystal ball
I reach for paper and pen
It's time to do it once again
I'm gonna write another song
It's not hard for me to turn a phrase
I can put it to you straight or shrouded in a haze
I can't sing worth a damn
And my guitar playing is a sham
But for me, it's all about the words
Chorus
Writing a song, for someone else to sing
He won't have to think or feel, I'll give him everything
But he's the one with the voice and the sexy smile
And he has the luxury of having his own style
I envy him up there on the stage
It's amazing to me how he can engage
The crowd with his eyes
And how he makes the women cry
With the songs that I write
From the "Star Performer"
I'm more than one of the boys in the band
I'm the one up front with microphone in hand
The one with the sexy smile
The one who can beguile
The audience with a song
I cut a new album every year
I give em the tunes they want to hear
I'm always practicing with the band
They're always puttin' new songs in my hand
Who write this s**t anyways?
Chorus
I love to hear them scream when I sing
Then run out , and make, the cash registers ring
It's all about how many CDs I can sell
So they can pay for all my fun in all the best hotels
I love the starmaker machinery
I love to see my name in lights, up on the marquee
My body guards are all well paid
To keep the fans at bay
Who gives a damn about them anyway
From "The Fan"
Fifty bucks a ticket to see this guy
That' a hundred bucks total, I wonder why
She loves him so much
She uses his songs like a crutch
To get her through the day
Chorus
There's another man who has a piece of her soul
This guy makes his living, singing rock 'n' roll
He creates feelings, and puts em, where they don't belong
I hear that he doesn't even write his own songs
From the Songwriter recap
Who knows what damage my songs have done
Too much sucess can ruin anyone
I hear their stories through the grapvine
They're earning millions, I'm gettin' nickels and dimes
I watch them rise, I watch them decline
While their fans build them shrines
Become obsessed if they're so inclined
While my words they try to divine
It's all done by design
To take their money and leave em feeling fine
It doesn't take an Einstein
To write Sweet Caroline
Or My Darlin' Clementine
Or Even Evangeline
As a writer I'm still in my prime
Just give me a pen and a bottle of wine
I'll give you a story line by line
It's not hard to combine
A bunch of words that are all entwined
Some stories dark, some stories shine
Some are rough, some are refined
Some rediculous, some sublime
A careful mixture of honey and brine
But my words will live on in time
But no one knows--- that they are mine
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