This man is
Not going to be
A smudge in life
He's out to leave his mark

They poke at him
Trying to get some dirt
But he's a private person
He has private parts

The time is right
The need feels great
He is gnashing at the bit
On the way to fill his plate

He wants some  
Fun and some
Loving company
So don't give him
The once over
With your third degree

You pretend to be this
And pretend to be that
If he doesn't measure up
You're going to leave him flat

I can feel your eyes on him
Like a bright searchlight
You think he will be going down
But you know it won't be with out a fight

Some things they come pretty easy  
Other things they seem so hard
Some times you find your treasure  
Buried in your own back yard

He is no longer walking
With his head in the stars
His feet are on the ground  
Putting an ear to the track
To hear that heavy chunk of metal
with its mournful sound

The book he carries talks of
A great war of the Spirit
Its stress is that it is no game
No politics physical or not can steer it

Then a breeze broke the solid heat
And quelled the sweat and quenched the thirst
You can toast the twisted souls
Or you can have them cursed