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 shone with beauty, 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 good on a kind 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.
Copyright ©
Mark Springer
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