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Well, if my album sold a million, |
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my label would love me |
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I'd be a hero of the underground |
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on the radio almost constantly |
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You know, my fame would be shortlived |
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Everyone would be so bored |
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They'd say that the fame's gone to my head |
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and no one would buy my records anymore |
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Well, I'd get a job at a cafe |
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serving tea and cake |
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I'd tell anyone who had a mission |
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that they were making a huge mistake |
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Then my fans would find this song |
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discover that I have prophetic skills |
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and all my albums would be re-released |
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and I'd live in Beverly Hills |
