Matt Morgan (Comedian) - E10 The Fame Game Poem lyrics

Build me a table, Construct me a fable, To burst our inner baboon, If it's willing & able, Project the whiniest voice, Sell the tiniest toys, But don't play their little game, That would ever deny you your choice, But some guess the line of separation, Between coherence & foundation, Where our inner belief emanates from, May not need qualification, So let fate describe your way, And your mates define your fame, As long as you're celebrated by those who you love, There'll be no need for the rubber face.