Where is the love, everyone acting like they aint got no Mumma,i...

Where is the love, everyone acting like they aint got no Mumma,

i knew a man 'Bojangles' and he dance for you, in worn out shoes, silver hair, ragged shirt, baggy pants, he jumped so high, he lightly touched down, Mr Bojangles, danced. Met him in a cell New Orleans, he was, down and out, he looked to me, to be the eyes of age as, he spoke right out, he talked about life, he laughed slapped his leg instead, he said his name Bojangles and he danced the lick, accross the cell, he grabbed his pants, and took a stance and jumped so high he clicked his heels, he let go a laugh, he danced, Mr Bojangles. He danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs, across the south, he spoke in tears of his dog, his dog died, after 20 yr he still grieves, he said i dance every chance i get for drinks and tips, but most of the time i dance behind county jails because i drink a bit. He shook his head, i heard some one ask why ?? Mr Bojangles.

Hey hey, my my, Rock and roll will never die, more to the picture than meets the eye, out of the blue and into the black, you pay for this but they give you that, once your gone you cant come back, this is the story of Jonny Rotten. The King is dead but never forgotten. Its better to burn out than fade away, my my hey hey.

I am out for few weeks, to many Superannuation doco to look at.
Good bye winners with your high opinions of others.