This place about to blow This place about to (This place about to) Throw some glitter Make it rain on him Let me see them Hanes It's time to kill the lights

And I can't explain It's surely not his brain that makes me thrill I used to dream that I'd discover The perfect lover someday I knew I'd recognize him If ever he came 'round my way I always used to fancy then He'd be one of those god-like kind of men

Fame, fame, fame, fame Fame, fame, fame Fame makes a man take things over Fame lets him loose, hard to swallow Fame puts you there where things are hollow (fame) Fame, it's not your brain, it's just the flame That burns your change to keep you insane