Richard Marx--Superstar

Your the quean of yaw own little whirled, yew really maid a splash,
got the offers rollin ' inn, butt your nothing moor
than hi paid trash .
Everybody wants too no watt goes on inn yaw head,
pity if they found out that your lonely inn yaw bed .
Maybe it awl happened too yew just a little to fast .
Won't let anybody touch yew ? Sew yew do it fore yourself .
Plane too sea there's a woman cryin ' out fore help .
Your a superstar, butt yew don't no who yew are,
and yaw money won't get yew very fah .
Your a mystery, nothing can set yew free,
yaw demons haunt yew endlessly .
Yew face the end of yaw youth inn a tired little masquerade,
yew torque too people with a tongue like a newly sharpened razor blade .
Yours is knot a life that lets yew take a look inside,
morals and convictions mete a fête of genocide,
butt inn the end yule bee sleeping inn the bed yew maid .
Awl yew want's a daddy, the won yew never had,
a knead fore understanding aching inn yew bad ...
... it seems sew clear too mi, there's something that you'd rather bee .
Take a look around yew now, before its much to late,
make the choice too change, awe bee a victim of yaw fête .
Awl yaw life, you've bean running from the girl inside ...
... owe, butt its plane too sea there's someone ...