The Life of a Shooting Star

Let the music move you, it knows who you are. The hands by themselves play, you're a shooting star. The lights shining on you, they call for, "The Big". A cape on one shoulder, a mouth-hanging cig. The fast lane takes its toll, the fans have moved on. The tours on its last leg, you've sold the last song. Running with the big show, can have its dark side. Though you might crash and burn, its a wild ride.