Once upon a time a Man was shell fish,
Blind unto his armor’s depth.
It bore a brilliant reflection from within,
Smeared ruins camouflaged old wrecks.
For certain, this Man gave of himself.
Just not in the right amount.
Not in the right place nor in the right time.
Because giving once given don’t count no mo’.
Uh uh, giving once given don’t count.
One day the Suit was like whoa,
Life having cost it a lot.
Seemed receivers of some inattention,
Don’t like gettin’ how much they got.
Yeah, they all wanted less than their lot.
But Man says he gave at the office,
Gave it up on the labor line.
He did the front line, assembly line,
Did the bloody salt mine.
So why don’t Man feel fine?
Hmm? Why don’t this Man feel fine?
Maybe that Man’s mistaken… (say what?!)
Armored types don’t need to lie! (Or cry)
With armor we don’t got to lie big guy.
And for Lawd’s sake wipe out that eye!
But ooh, look at that brilliance. (Oh boy!)
That Man he’s really on track. (he sure is!)
Someone got buddy’s back. (fo sho!)
There ain’t nuthin’ that he muss lack. (he’s that good!)
All man nods to The Go-Getters.
Living life Large In Their Shell.
But an odd Man muses of the unbrilliant life,
What’s out in the darkness, pray tell…?
You there without any armor,
Could you assist a Man recanting a spell?
If you will, Man’s no need for this armor.
He’ll be happy to bid it farewell. (No Malarky!)
He’d be the first one to bid armor farewell.
Then unarmored people rebel!
With love. That’s how unarmored people rebel…
There’s none of this push and this shove.
It’s a light touch with a kid glove.
Thank you, friend.