From the high mountain
I somersaulted in to the deep...
Long before you called yourself Muhammad Ali
you floated like a butterfly stung like a bee...
Though with ink filled was the sea,
And with paper the sky was made...
Yellow and green become more color
My pleasure has come flowers like blossom...
Thanks Shakespeare to write such literature
You have shown man's thoughts and nature...
Your heart's so pure
but it is so cold...
First total in the states
for thirty-eight years...
Growth without hesitation,
Then these I decide...
One man fell in love
and lost control...
I've had 27 birthdays
Will I have 28...
In that dark alley,
when I called out...
If I didn't know better,
would say you growing fast...