Got a phone call today from Mr. Nice,He's often called, once
or twice,He's on stage in town, asked me to come down,I was
five minutes late, I had to pop by the gate,I stood at the side,
and I listened and I tried,To imagine the life, that gave him
that smile,"An audience with" it reads on the bill,A man that
made his millions, smuggling for thrillsMaster of disguise and
masters degrees,Who's goal in life, to set what grows
free,I have a drink and a smoke, and some think its a jokeand
summon some pain, they can't take up the strainAnd I like
stories told, and will 'till I'm old,All the
one's growing up, are gonna love what we've known,Is
it going to fast? am I living in the past?Do we think anymore?
or live behind our closed doors?There's something about a
man on a stage,To make you listen and think 'I wanna come
back again'So Mr. Nice stared, it is,I'm glad you
called, I had me a ball.