An act, everything known, everyone unknown.
Grow old or no know one. No one knows what it's like to grow old.
Behind the scenes, a building facade.
Open the drapes, open them wide to whatever lies beyond.
Grown men love to talk their talk,
but never stand above the podium so that they walk the walk.
One of these days I will have somewhere to be,
gather my bearings for a place to seek.
Hot like fire, my spirit never numbed with ice,
a happily ever after where the everyone is nice.
One of these days I'll be on top of the game,
the game of life, and above all will be there, my name.
