The Magician   

The Magician plays at number games

And spinning minds around,

As easily healer as worst of the stealers,

Taking your soul without a sound.

He smiles, and before you draw a breath

He tears your world apart;

Steals away certainty, shows you life's death,

Then touches you laughing, and heals your heart.

And there's no way out till the end of the trip,

You think you're in control, and you mustn't let it slip,

While silent backstage is a lowly stagehand,

Who, pulling on the levers, moves the earth where you stand.

He smiles, and before you draw a breath

He tears your world apart;

Steals away certainty, shows you life's death,

Then touches you laughing, and heals your heart.

And if you choose to follow, then never look back;

It wasn't your decision, you'll never find the tracks.

And in his magic eyes,

You can't tell truth from lies.

The Magician plays at many games,

And spins his faces 'round.

To some he's a stealer, to others a healer,

To himself he's a dreamer, to destiny bound.

He smiles, and before you draw a breath

He tears your world apart;

Steals away certainty, shows you life's death,

Then touches you laughing, and heals your heart.

And you cannot bear to follow, and you cannot run away,

In terrored fascination you are drawn into the play.

For in his eyes you feel

That this is all that's real.

For in his eyes you feel

That this is all that's real.

 

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