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.