[ACTIVATE SELF]

I moonwalk across red carpets of blood. Illuminati.
Paparazzi. Glitz & glamor and drugs. Overdosing on fame.
Beelzebub in a bottle lace the blunt with cocain.
In the biblical sense, will eye be abel to change
before my star burns out like an unsustainable flame?
See, I’ve been labeled insane with an unobtainable taste
because the gravy I crave is the publication and praise.
Yeah, I’m an industry plant (I mean celebrity god).
Deified by the masses, sacrifice my mom for a nom
a Golden Globe or an Oscar or a Holly-wood wand.
Go to parties with Crowley, sold my soul to a faun.
Who Adonis’d my body so he could show me at Cannes.
And now the old me is gone. I’m just a Baphomet (s)pawn.
Went from a comical crow into a prodigal swan.
In a demonic pond full of warlocks and cons.
Using Hollywood “magic” as a hypnotic bond.