People say I've got my hands in too many things
Keeping time with paupers just as well as kings
I toss my head 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, it's so sweet the sour sauce
I close my eyes and still somehow I see
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
But with you as my desire
The spirit is gonna lift me higher
I've got to keep my irons in the fire
I've got to keep my irons in the fire children