Irons In the Fire

People say I've got my hands in too many things Keeping time with paupers just as well as kings I toss my hat up to the silver sky And then I sigh Look at all the blessings in my life Here I am your Piscean holocaust Born in Venice Harlem with some sweet and sour sauce I close my eyes and still somehow I feel You're here with me And you are such a blessing in my life Here I am, I'm just a fragment of my God Heavenly father, hear me Sometimes life gets so hard With you as my desire Spirit's gonna build me higher I've got to keep my irons in the fire Got to keep my irons in the fire