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 thrills Master 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 joke and summon some pain, they can't take up the strain And 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.