One. Two. Three. Four. [Verse] I work in a call centre down by the ring road, Eat meal deals and watch the rich unload. Everyone’s famous for absolutely nowt, Crying in a villa with their lips all pout. Mum says, “Love, get a proper trade.” I say, “Mum, have you seen what influencers get paid?” You can flog protein shakes in a rented house, And somehow end up on the telly with a spouse. [Pre-Chorus] I don’t want a Nobel Prize, I just want matching veneers and blue tick eyes. [Chorus] I wanna be a reality TV star, Get driven round in somebody else’s car. Have my heartbreak sponsored by a skincare brand, Wave at paparazzi like it’s all been planned. I wanna cry in HD, sell a detox tea, Get dumped on a sofa for the ratings fee. Be adored, ignored, then torn apart by tweets— Fifteen minutes and I’ll be - reality royalty (Reality royalty) [Verse] I’d have an agent and a fake tan line, A clothing range that’s discontinued by July. I’d say, “I’m just being honest,” on every chat show seat, Then release a single no one wants to stream. I’d get invited to openings for bars, Take selfies with people from six different shows. Pretend we’re all best mates and terribly profound, Then forget each other when the next lot come around. [Pre-Chorus] I’d tell the mags I’ve “found myself”, Then sell the exclusive to improve my mental health. [Chorus] I wanna be a reality TV star, Get my own fragrance called “Desire” in a jar. Have a breakup timed for Christmas Day, And do redemption interviews in May. I wanna cry in HD, sell a detox tea, Get cancelled over something I said at twenty-three. Be adored, ignored, then picked apart by geeks— Fifteen minutes and I’ll be - reality royalty (Reality royalty) [Bridge] But the comments section knows where you live, And strangers think your whole life’s theirs to give. They love you when you’re glamorous and thin, Then call you tragic if you show a bit of skin. Your mum still shops at Tesco, Your mates still work till five, But you’re smiling in a nightclub, Trying desperately to look alive. [Instrumental interlude] [Breakdown] Turns out fame’s a funny little beast— Free cocktails, panic attacks and sponsored teeth. You’re everybody’s darling till the algorithm shifts, And obscurity’s expensive … while attention’s cheap [Instrumental interlude] [Prechorus] I’m practising my shocked face in the mirror, Perfecting my “journey”, making my accent slightly clearer. [Chorus] Still wanna be a reality TV star, Maybe I’m not aiming very high, but there you are. Swap my payslip for a podcast and a tan, Become a cautionary tale with a management plan. I wanna cry in HD, sell a memory, Tell a morning programme “This is the real me.” Get chewed up, spat out, then crawl back for repeats Fifteen minutes and I’ll be - reality royalty (Reality royalty)
