His voice was like no other,
Lines formed for tickets in great queues;
His face, on posters, did smother,
But fame made him arrogant and rude.
One fan was eager to follow him,
To every concert in every town;
And when he finally got to meet him,
He said, - I want to be like you, I'm your fan!
As the concert draws to a close,
I'm a fan, forever yours.
Please grant me an autograph, I propose,
A treasured memento, for me to forever store.
The maestro's snicker cut like a knife,
- Comparing us is just a joke!
A ugly freak like you will never be a singer in life.
Guards will take you out, not worthy of a single word.
The fan sneaked into the hotel room,
Through the balcony, he made his way in.
Taking an oak chair, he met his doom,
As he struck the maestro on the cheek and chin.
A squad of cops burst into the place,
And saw the singer's body on the floor.
Crawling towards the door, a desperate race,
He died in a pool of red, his fate no more.