Why is it all these fakers 
Seem to make the morning papers? 
They´re selling records by the million 
Seems so easy in my opinion 
 
Look at the Jazz Star 
He really needs some guts 
Playing from seven to midnight 
Surviving on peanuts 
 
Selling records by the dozen 
Probably sold his tenor to make them 
With artwork designed by his brother 
And liner notes by his mother 
 
Told what to do, miming to a tape 
While a team of experts make sure you´re looking great 
Taking a limo to your own private bar 
My God, I want to be a popstar 
 
Going to get on the TV 
And go on dates with only the pretty 
Maybe next year I´ll pretend to be gay 
I´ll sell some more records in a flash that way 
 
Makes no difference if I look like a nut 
Every kid in the world is going to copy my haircut 
I´ll advertise some trainers, maybe even a car 
Shrewd product placement will guarantee I´m a star 
 
An ugly guy will write my songs 
Surely there is nothing wrong 
Retiring when I´m 22 
With a house a car and nothing to do 
 
Instantaneous satisfaction it will be 
Got no need for artistic credibility 
With this attitude, I´m pretty sure to go far 
My God, I want to be a popstar 
 
Maybe it´s too easy, to move so quickly so far 
I want to be a popstar 
 
Where´s the middle ground? 
It´s hard to make a living with you own true sound 
What road am I going to tread? 
What the hell would I do instead? 
 
There may be no tours in Roma 
Or a drug-induced designer coma 
No teenage girls when show is over 
I prefer my women older 
 
Maybe I don´t know what I´m talking about 
Sometimes it would be nice to play a place and sell out 
Driving to a gig in my brand new sports car 
My God, I want to be a popstar, I want to be a popstar 
 
Maybe it´s too easy, to move so quickly so far 
Who wants to be a popstar?