I love to tell people what your real name is
Like children singing it ends in an eek
Wishing I could have convinced you that I was in show-biz
I spent my credit as if I was the richest freak
People think you don’t have a really pretty face
My first computer carried my unreal answer to this
Filling my teenage heart with promises of grace
It made you my answer, my project, my Miss
The President told us the internet is closed
It made me wild to watch it unfold
Who else besides me should he scold
For five years now I will live a life that is very cold