Let the bells toll, let the streets clear,
Let the leaves fall as we shed tears.
For the magician’s lost his magic,
And he now lives in fear.
If only you could see him in his glory days,
For he could’ve made you levitate.
And yes, he’s tried to meditate
Yet all he could think of is his sad state
And how he has too much on his plate.
He feels slighted by a divine hand,
When he doesn’t feel cut in half.
One half here and one half in the past,
The better half gone but within his grasp.
His hands are rusted and his heart’s corrupted.
His tools have lost their sharpness,
And he’s lost his tact.
Now all he has is a sad bland act.
To all I say come along
As we watch the magician sing his sad song.
For what is a magician who’s lost his magic,
If not for something tragic.