Ten years of French tucks and crying in trucks,
But the culture expert just ran out of luck.
Karamo’s gone MIA, ghosted the press,
Left the Fab Five in a legendary mess.
No more heart-to-hearts or digging for the truth,
He bailed on the mic like an extracted tooth.
He’s done with the trauma, the tears, and the shame,
Changing his number and exiting the game.
He said, I’m out, I’m done, I’m free,
No more emotional surgery.
Keep the cameras, keep the glow,
Karamo’s leaving the freaking show.
Yeah, he’s leaving the show.
Press pass?
Trash that.
Deep talk?
Slash that.
Five stars?
Cash that.
Where’s Karamo?
Catch that!
He didn’t even say goodbye to the crew,
Just a cloud of smoke and a designer shoe.
No more breakthroughs today.
Just a clean break.
He’s finally fixing himself.
Queer Eye for the...
quiet life.
