******
This is a story about a girl
Named Lucky...
I've gotten what I always dreamed of as a little girl-- a sucessful singing career. Not to mention a sucessful acting career. And all that comes with it-- fame, money, etc. I've got it all. So why do my thoughts keep going back to Roswell, New Mexico?
Early morning
She wakes up
Knock, knock, knock
On the door
It's time for makeup
Perfect smile
It's you they're all
Waiting for
They go...
"Isn't she lovely, this
Hollywood girl?"
And they say...
My life is busy-- tours, interviews, signings, music videos. I get recogonized on streets... it sounds like the perfect life, doesn't it? I've got plenty of money. I could retire and live comfortably for the rest of my life. I should be happy. Why aren't I?
She's so lucky, she's a star
But she cry, cry, cries in her
Lonely heart, thinking
If there's nothing missing
In my life
Then why do these tears come
At night?
A star has no privacy. Everyone knows that Maria DeLuca is not one happy little diva. Thousands of speclations are made about why. Drugs? A drinking problem? Abusive childhood? Unscrupulous management? Once I saw a tabloid that said I was abducted mu aliens. Well, that's the closest anyone's come to the truth. Only my body wasn't abducted, just my heart.
Everyone knows that I don't date. Just another newsbit for the media to pounce on. Maybe I'm a lesbian, maybe I had an abusive boyfriend. No one has ever guessed the truth. After all, in this world, who would stay loyal to their first love?
Lost in an image,
Lost in a dream
But there's no one there to
Wake her up
And her world is spinning and
She keeps on winning
But tell me what happens when
It stops?
They go...
"Isn't she lovely, this
Hollywood girl?"
And they say...
Oh, I have the Grammys, the Oscars, the Emmys. Any award you name, I've got it. They're stuffed in the back of my closet. I have the number one spot on all the charts. The number one movie in the country. Half the time, I can't remember what those are. But I keep going, I keep singing, I keep acting. It's all that keeps alive. If I stay busy, I don't have to think. I don't have to remember.
She's so lucky, she's a star
But she cry, cry, cries in her
Lonely heart, thinking
If there's nothing missing
In my life
Then why do these tears come
At night?
Girls come up to me on the street, and tell me how lucky I am, how much they wish they were me. I look at them, and I look at their boyfriends, and I know the truth. Sucess is nothing without love.
"Best actress, and the
Winner is... Lucky!"
"I'm Roger Johnson for pop
News standing outside the
Arena waiting for Lucky.
Oh my gosh... here
She comes!"
I haven't talk to any of them in years. Not even Alex. Not even Lizzie. It's just too painful. Aftery they left, we just sort of fell apart. I'm still working at piecing myself back together.
Isn't she lucky, this
Hollywood girl?
She is so lucky, but shy does
She cry?
If there is nothing missing in
Her life,
Why do these tears come
At night?
I've made my decision. I have a vacation in two weeks. I'll go home. To Roswell. It's not fair to leave them alone, and I'm not dealing with this any better that I did when we were together. And if they come back, they'll come back to Roswell. I don't really need all this. I don't want this. All I want, all I need is... him.
She's so lucky, she's a star
But she cry, cry, cries in her
Lonely heart, thinking
If there's nothing missing
In my life
Then why do these tears come
At night?
But I won't quit. I'll keep singing, keep making movies. And I know why. Because someplace, somewhere, there is a man names Michael. And I know him. I know he's buying my CD's, going to my movies. And that makes us almost have a connection. It's almost like he's here with me. Almost. And that's all that keeps me going.
End
