Some sort of soul that
And you expect the world to beckon
And your stage to shine
Your heart just demands

As you wish my lovely
How’s your memory about Jack
Hope your doin’ real fine
The world is falling in behind your claims to fame

And there you are again
A ‘top that mountain with Robert
Pity the peons
Your gardeners your aides your sanity

Say what
The world owes you something
Well let the queue begin
I am way down back