Who will throw me roses at the final curtain call?
Who will clap and stamp and chant in an empty music hall?
I've lived every word I write
And acted up under over lights
But when you go home, arm in arm
I go back to an empty room
No afterglow after the aftershow
The sacrifice for art, I suppose
It imitates life you see
Limitates privacy
I tried to give all of me
But hate the cold reality that
Let me live out on the stage, my fantasy
When what I really crave is not like from some
But love from one
So, who will throw me roses?
Who will throw me roses?
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