Tinseltown

Could have been a contender
Could have been the new Bond
Could have been some kind of Jesus
Or a dyed-in classic blonde
He could have been a high flyer
But he could not get his head
Nor heels above the water
Became a falling star instead, instead

Now he's laid out flat by publicity
With all his defenses down
Somewhere between an angel and a clown

Meanwhile back in Tinseltown
The men who put the stars in space
Pray to the god of high finance
And give the beast a sexy face

There's a wounded genie in the bottle
A fire where the ice is thin
A drunken soul dancing a waltz
On the head of a pin

Once his eyes were a winning blue
But the bird flew from his hand
Now he's a somnambulist on a precipice
Leaning on a crutch of sand
Crutch of sand
Crutch of sand
Crutch of sand
Crutch of sand

Meanwhile back in Tinseltown
The men who put the stars in space
Fight for the rights to his story
And win with a fifth ace
And the bright, bright lights in Tinseltown
Didn't even dim
When the news of his expiry
On the radio came in
For no one weeps in Tinseltown
The stars are hard in Tinseltown
And the favorite can fall in Tinseltown
Your biggest dream is made small in Tinseltown
When you go to the wall in Tinseltown
'Cause you got to walk tall in Tinseltown
You got to walk, then crawl in Tinseltown
When you're on a roll in Tinseltown
You got to be in control in Tinseltown
Got to give up your soul in Tinseltown
Give up your soul in Tinseltown
In Tinseltown
In Tinseltown
In Tinseltown
In Tinseltown
You watch the stars drown