Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander

They call me a poet, or a bongo player; I'm something like a renaissance schizophrenic wearing a tutu around his neck cause I got my head up a ballerina's butt; I'm nobody, really; I dream of a happier day, but this one's fixin' to be blissful; never count out a day; always know your brown head will touch the air, lovingly, once again