Local Lass

Everything that she's ever wanted,
Has come gatecrashing, on her heels.
Leaving her flustered and disjointed.
Trying to find out what is real.

And when her show was finally aired,
Her heart and guts took a leap to hell.
It made her wonder what she wanted.
And why she did this to herself.

Yet, It makes me cry, and makes me laugh.
When the local lass, and her photograph,
Is on the news; and juggled in the press,
Not like I could've ever guessed.

She was young, and she was sweet,
Her heart was free, yet so discreet.
Now that she's got her printed blessing,
The local lass, has gone missing.
...

Maybe now, she's slowly finding out,
What she had imagined, wasn't so.
Does she open her eyes every morning,
Thinking she's got nowhere to go?

Did nobody ring the warning bell?
Did she really feel, she was all alone?
And now that everyone's just a guest,
Can she leave her house and go back home?

Maybe it's her social epitaph,
When the local lass, and her photograph,
Is broadcast live, and printed in the press,
Not like I could've ever guessed.

And seeing her, maybe I've realised,
Sitting on the other side, of flashing lies,
That the telivision is an extortionist.
It doesn't even care that we exist.
...

But she was young and she was sweet.
Yet now, that the whole world's at her feet,
Amidst the chirping and the hissing,
The local lass, has gone missing.