Cabin Fever

Fictional Character

12/27/02

Lost in my memory are days worth remembering.
I was a fictional character,
striking poses
to be photographed and reviewed in Maxim and Playboy.
A subject of documentaries on E!
All news all the time.
Now my bed is where I dwell;
my past my methadone for overcoming tomorrow,
deep in the heart of days gone by.
I was a fictional character;
a rock star, womanizer and cheat
sitting in church on Sunday
praying for Saturdays of forgiveness.
I wouldn't hide if you let me
but you never did.
I should've died cuz you let me,
but I never did.
I was a fictional character,
true as a blue sky living in a world of clouds.
The next great hope
followed by the next great hope
and so on.
I was braiding life's rope
in order to climb away.
Locking myself up;
hoping I might be found.
I never was.
I became a fictional character;
a legend with patented star mystique
and a vicious dreamer
with a visionary's soul.
And soon I was only remembered,
reminded every time my ears ring.
"He was a good friend. He said it's 'the end'."
Warhol painted me on soup cans,
and my fifteen minutes were up.
In that time I gave birth to fifteen of you.
Now I'm a fictional character
and a father of fourteen
plus an exact clone of myself
replicated from my DNA
and housed for 8-1/2 months in Mother Nature.
Two weeks early and still never quite on time.
You don't realize I never went anywhere,
yet you claim it's changed.
I say it's all been said before,
and differed by staying the same.