Happy Birthday, Katy Perry

I guess we're all kind of fireworks - we're laid in the grime and dirt
But stuffed with the potential to light up the world
Soon we'll shoot from the ground, high up through the clouds
To sit on top of everything - until we burn out
Then we'll flicker away in denial as we fight to linger awhile - then explode in the grandest of fashion
Everyone will talk of how great we once were - while back to the ground we come crashing
Down, down, down, down
Back down to the earth we come crashing

All the flashbulbs burst - building photograph pictures
To help us remember all the things we're now not
Now we're just empty, unusable shells that faintly resemble something that once made people stop and stare
What a vague memory of a temporary life somewhere