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I gotta appreciate this one. It's absolutely beautiful.
Disappointment isn't climbing off the bike at the end of a jump that left the entire audience out of their seats and hearing them cheer.
It's afterwards. When you get everything that people do stupid human tricks for. You stand in the winner's circle and you get your award and you get approached by fans and agents alike who all want a piece of you. They move closer, latching onto you like leeches, draining the life out of you because they love you.
The agents are one thing, the fans are worse.
To each of them you're some kinda god. Some sort of magical being with powers beyond normal human skills. All you did was stick to your guns, and that somehow makes you better then they are? Makes you worthy of adoration?
You're not god right? Not a diety either. You're just human. There's real power out there not in the hands of mankind. Doesn't make sense to place power in the hands of normal guys like me.
I walk down certain streets and get recognized-then I smile and wave and sign a few slips of paper. My adoring fans, I gotta love them.
And it's 'cause of that that I wish them more then just jumping, performin' stupid human tricks. Being the dog in the dog and pony show. It killed my dad after my mom left. Tore our family apart in the end. As much as you think you're satisfyin' them? It's never enough. How quickly they'd get disillusioned with the money and the power and the affection.
It sounds sort of depressing, but all my fame's only served to illustrate the few pleasures in my life. Lights in my existence and all that. All and all? I'm no richer then the rest of them. I ride down the street and folks sit there and envy all that I have.
If only they knew. S'brought me nothing but disappointment.
Disappointment isn't climbing off the bike at the end of a jump that left the entire audience out of their seats and hearing them cheer.
It's afterwards. When you get everything that people do stupid human tricks for. You stand in the winner's circle and you get your award and you get approached by fans and agents alike who all want a piece of you. They move closer, latching onto you like leeches, draining the life out of you because they love you.
The agents are one thing, the fans are worse.
To each of them you're some kinda god. Some sort of magical being with powers beyond normal human skills. All you did was stick to your guns, and that somehow makes you better then they are? Makes you worthy of adoration?
You're not god right? Not a diety either. You're just human. There's real power out there not in the hands of mankind. Doesn't make sense to place power in the hands of normal guys like me.
I walk down certain streets and get recognized-then I smile and wave and sign a few slips of paper. My adoring fans, I gotta love them.
And it's 'cause of that that I wish them more then just jumping, performin' stupid human tricks. Being the dog in the dog and pony show. It killed my dad after my mom left. Tore our family apart in the end. As much as you think you're satisfyin' them? It's never enough. How quickly they'd get disillusioned with the money and the power and the affection.
It sounds sort of depressing, but all my fame's only served to illustrate the few pleasures in my life. Lights in my existence and all that. All and all? I'm no richer then the rest of them. I ride down the street and folks sit there and envy all that I have.
If only they knew. S'brought me nothing but disappointment.
