Soul of a child

My twin was delusional, he thought he was a star He told me people recognized him, near and far Strangers gave him thumbs up, pretty women smiled Within him they saw the soul of a child. I said "Jerry, no offense, you are poor at conversation People yawn, go away, for the dialog duration You lack warmth, enthusiasm, any vital spark You're not the life of the party; the contrast is stark. Jerry said "that's all true, but once I was a handsome dude" I winced, "I'm your twin, don't mean to be rude Nobody looks at me twice, but for each hard-won friend When the storm hits, on them I can depend." The psych diagnosed Jerry with delusions of grandeur He may be my brother, but in social life he's poor Most crazy people think they are hated, he thinks he sees affection Maybe that's better, but it's still the wrong direction. After the mental hospital, we went cycling upstate We ran into women, they looked animated, they looked great They gave Jerry wide smiles, men cheered him too I pinched myself - it's been years since I've sniffed glue. What's celebrity based on, what makes a fan? Do they look beyond appearance, at the soul of the man? Maybe it's based on something like a good heart A feeling for the little guy, who makes a brand-new start. So I'll cheer for the crowd, I'll cheer for the fan They have the right soul but they have the wrong man.