Cake

I am an opera singer
I stand on painted tape
It tells me where Im going
And where to throw my cape
I call my costars "brother"
I call my costars "knave"
I play both good and evil parts
I sing to verdis grave
And every single morning
By 10 am Im dressed
My rehearsals last for hours and hours
With diligence 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