The Magician

A cape like wings of a dove
Slight of hand, he hands out love
In a four pack of cards not too far
From where reality mixes with the unnatural
And never mind being practical because when
You’re a magician no one’s every mad at you
But when everything is a joke how long before
The words you spoke are nothing more than an
Epitaph, where’s your sleight of hand now?

Deception is the aim of the game and
You’ve had decades to perfect the pain staking
Process of creating wonder and laughter in others
Eyes but they’ll never understand the real prize is a
Reprisal, the ultimate way to one’s survival, when you’re
Dealing with the unknown you get to choose the variables
For as long as you want, the rest of us don’t have that kind of
Luck, everyone’s always mesmerized by the flicker of magic
The control you have is something quite tragic

Tell them the punch line is at the end of the bridge
And they’ll find themselves looking for something magnificent
When all they’ll find is what they left behind, the shells of a past
Life before the lies were brought to life, standing like unworn suits
Nothing that compares to the attire you chose, and everyone
Wants to be like you because you are a magician, a secret
Creature in this human existence but it’s hard enough
To find ourselves when we’re not being led to the fell swoop
Trap of another trick, don’t look away, don’t blink, don’t think

About the repercussions of such a dangerous game
Your claim to fame, the making of your name
Not that you would ever use your real one because
That would require a different kind of sum where the answer
Isn’t grasped from thin air and make-believe dreams of people
Sometimes life isn’t fair, but you are a magician and fair isn’t
In the rulebook anymore, you’re the mad man, the tormentor
Dangling answers just out of reach, long enough to tease and
I’ve decided, to hide and wait it out, the magicians are never
In town that long…

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