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.