Many hats on my head,
Many titles to claim,
I find it fulfilling to be,
Everything that motivates me.

One day I’m a fireman,
Another day I am a jailer,
This day I’m a poet,
Tomorrow I’ll be a mailer.

What’s funny is this,
A name and a shield,
Is merely a buck for a meal,
My ignorance is so bliss.

These paths are not me,
They are merely a guide,
For me to find whomever is me,
On a security guard’s salary.

To make films or to weep,
To keep jails or to sleep,
To fight fires or to leap,
Into this pen of little sheep.

Why is it that I,
Aim to be that guy,
Who’s career should imply,
That I’m “something” till I die?

An artist,
An actor,
An experiment of all factors,
I try hard to be somebody,
When I’m already my own everybody.

I’m exactly what I need to be,
In this world of all these faces,
Masks grow tight around these cheeks,
Why aspire to climb mountains,
And reach such heightening places?

I’m a detective one day,
An electrician by night,
A silly little dreamer,
Always ready to take on flight.

I’ll pilot this aircraft,
And spread my wings a’sailing,
Without prejudice or hesitation,
I may not always succeed,
But I’m never failing.