We the dead artiste

Are we slaves in chains 
Upon this earth dark 
Wearing the mask 
For tests each day come 
At night we meet the ghost 
Our hearts hurt 

And what can we tell our wives 
Our mothers and fans 
That we are not human 
That fame has dehumanised us 
We are murdered by our own pains for we are who we are 

God, for the price of heroin on sale, 
Or a cocaine alcohol cocktail 
How has this effected the prices 
That we are all in hell having been 
Killed by our own hearts,

If only we could speak, 

Now on a list

We are the dead artiste 

From Elvis Presley to Heath Ledger 
We are the dead artiste