Paparazzi, can’t make the man.
Paparazzi, can’t break the man.
Next to the transit lounge
see the Paparazzi tears.
No-one came today
from Boston or Tangiers.
And in departures — only
faceless trippers trip,
loaded with duty free
held in white knuckle grip.
Snap it up, flash away —
steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type —
the news is running late tonight.
Be-decked with Nikon necklaces
hear the Paparazzi cries.
Under their noses walk
the famous in disguise.
Conspicuously huddled there
but no-one stops to look.
They’ve got their crayons out
to colour in the book.
Snap it up, flash away —
steal a camel for a day.
Break the story in heavy type —
Paparazzi won’t be home tonight.
Paparazzi — write it down.
Paparazzi — turn it around.
Paparazzi — take it, fake it,
break it.
‘cos it’s a story.
Now someone’s cut the lines
communication’s down.
All photo film is fogged.
Celebrities surround
and jab their fingers at me.
They kiss but I can’t tell.
Even poor Paparazzi
must have privacy as well.