People say I've got my hands in too many things
Keeping time with paupers just as well as kings
I toss my hat up to the silver sky

And then I sigh
Look at all the blessings in my life


Here I am your Piscean holocaust
Born in Venice Harlem with some sweet and sour sauce
I close my eyes and still somehow I feel

You're here with me
And you are such a blessing in my life


Here I am, I'm just a fragment of my God
Heavenly father, hear me
Sometimes life gets so hard

With you as my desire
Spirit's gonna build me higher
I've got to keep my irons in the fire

Got to keep my irons in the fire