Opera Singer - Cake

I am an opera singer

I stand on painted tape

It tells me where I’m going

And where to throw my cape

I call my co-star's brother

I call my co-star's knave

I play both good and evil parts

I sing to Verdi’s grave

And every single morning

By ten a.m. I’m dressed

My rehearsals last for hours and hours

With dilligence I have been blessed

Some people they call me «monster»

Some people they call me «saint»

My talent feeds my darker side

Yet no one will complain

I am an opera singer

I sing in foreign lands