King Complex - Man Without Country

You fold your arms, roll your eyes, and spin your sports car keys

You sold a sleazy story to a gossip magazine

You throw your toys out of the pram to try and make a scene

You carelessly indulge in cosmetic surgery

You’d do anything just to be seen

Anything that gets you on a screen

You really would go to any extreme

There’s no such thing as bad publicity

You are the bearer of bad news

You were the boy in the 'pick teams' that no-one would choose

Left standing in line

Better luck next time

Now you work in the wrong field

You watch your superiors to tread on their heals

You may slip through the crack

But what goes around must come back

Your head is like a lost balloon, drifting through the clouds

I’m waiting for the day it shrivels up and hits the ground

My ears are like satellites, I’m lucky as can be

Life is so convenient when you hear things digitally

You’d do anything just to be seen

Anything that gets you on a screen

You really would go to any extreme

There’s no such thing as bad publicity

You are the bearer of bad news

You are a mild irritation like a stone in my shoe

You are the feeling of gloom

That empties the room

Now you take undeserved praise

You laugh and kiss money as you watch your pay raise

You are a true parasite

And you’re the bane of my life