“Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars
And live in hillltop houses driving fifteen cars
The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap
We’ll all stay skinny ‘cause we just won’t eat
And we’ll hang out in the coolest bars
In the VIP with the movie stars
Every good gold digger’s gonna wind up there
Every playboy bunny with her bleach blond hair
And we’ll hide out in the private rooms
With the latest dictionary and today’s who’s who
They’ll get you anything with that evil smile
Everybody’s got a drug dealer on speed dial
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar”

Day dreaming has always been a pass time of mine. During moments of unbearable boredom, my mind played around ideas bordering from bizarre to really out-of-the-universe-type. I’d share one, for fart’s sake.

If only I have thee”voice”. I’d exchange these pair of corporate pumps and slip on my chucks. I’d throw my black coat and wear a leather jacket instead. I’d exchange any of my office supplies for a good old electric guitar and amplifiers. I’d stay up late to write songs rather than fidgeting over org charts and management reports. I’d starve and put up a band.

Just when I’m touring with my band, reality snaps me back and drags me out of my delusion.

Now, I’m settling to band manager or PR consultant (at the least).

**This is brought to you by our very long MEETING which ended up in DRINKING**

Hey Hey, I wanna be a rockstar.


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