Some people just need a reality check,
They think they're so good or whatever,
Covered in Wotsit orange fake tan,
With foundation for lipstick,
A belt for a skirt and a bra for a top.
In ten, twenty years, they won't be stars,
They'll be serving everyone else,
In McDonalds, KFC or Pizza Hut,
With a name tag on their chest,
Not their name in lights.
The sluts need to calm down,
Getting a boy isn't what life's about,
I may be unpopular but I care for my future,
I care for my real friends,
Whilst they treat theirs like they're disposable.
The sluts, the 'populars' are a joke,
All they want are sex, boys and attention,
At least I care about myself,
At least I don't steal boyfriends,
And cover myself with make-up.
Get a reality check. Now.