Johnny wanna be a big star
Get on stage and play the guitar
Make a little money
Buy a fancy car
Big old house and an alligator
Just to match with them alligator shoes
He's a rich man so he's no longer singin the blues
He's singing songs about material things
and platinum rings and watches that go blink
But, diamonds don't blink in the dark
He's a star now, but he aint singing from the heart
Sooner or later he's just gonna fall apart
Coz his fans can't relate to his newfound art
He ain't doing what he did from the start
And that's putting in some feeling and thought
He decided to live his life shallow
Passion is love for material

And it's gone...gone...going...
Gone...everything gone...give a damn...
Gone be the birds when they don't wanna sing...
Gone people...up awkward with their things...
Gone...

You see yourself in the mirror and ya
Feel safe coz it looks familiar but ya
Afraid to open up your soul coz ya
Don't really know
Don't really know
Who is?
The person thats deep within
Coz your content with just being
The naive brown man and ya
Fail to see that it's trivial
Insignificant, you addicted to material
I've seen your kind before
Your the type that thinks souls is sold in a store
Packaged up with incense sticks
With them vegetarian meals
To you that's righteous
You're fiction like books
You need to go out to life and look
Coz..What happens when they take your material
You already sold ya soul
and it's..

And it's gone...gone...going...
Gone...everything gone...give a damn...
Gone be the birds when they don't wanna sing...
Gone people...up awkward with their things...
Gone...

You say that, time is money
And money is time
So you got mind in ya money
And ya money on ya mind
But what about..
That crime that cha did to get paid
And what about..
That bid, you can't take it to your brain

And what about those shoes your in day
They'll be good
On the bridges you've walked along the way

All that money that you got
Gonna be gone
That gear that you rock
Gonna be gone
The house up on the hill
Gonna be gone
The gold fronts on your grill
Gonna be gone
The ice on your wrist
Gonna be gone
That nice little miss
Gonna be gone
That whip that you roll
Gonna be gone
And what's worst is your soul already gone

And it's gone...gone...going...
Gone...everything gone...give a damn...
Gone be the birds when they don't wanna sing...
Gone people...up awkward with their things...
Gone...