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 sauceI 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 meSometimes 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

Songwriters

Brockert, Mary CPublished by

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.