They call it magic
Magic when I elevate in front of them
Magic, my precious jewel
A possession I will bequeath to you dear daughter
A treasure that will bring all your dreams to life
They call it magic, when I get lost in the cupboard
They call it magic, when I make them happy
Magic when we make the impossible happen.
So go ahead and cut me into two
Say it triumphantly
'abracadabra'
Oh! Let the cheers subside your suspense
Golly! Laugh loudly like the pendulum clock
With Papa and I
They say
Aw, we sniff savouriness
Ah! They know not
That Papa and I
Ne'er do well
Ha! They 'heareth' not
Papa and I
Adroit 'bunkos'
Papa! Tonight the wind
Howls, swirls powerfully
Its effacing my body in disarray
Say it
Papa... 'Abracadabra'
The wind still howls
Papa 'sayeth'
Abracadabra!
It’s the fault in the
stars
Don't put my soul on the open road of pain
No drug, no abracadabra can cure you
And you know it.
If I could, I would have
But it so happens that
It’s not everything that magic can cure
And it’s something beyond our comprehension
The alienation that magic presents!
Yes they call it magic
We call it magic
But we all know that in truth
Like my body it only cuts our dreams
And hopes into two
Papa, in you
Is a 'muchacho'
I run crestfallen forth
To the oak tree of old
I beseech fervently
The fresh marine of the valleys
I envisage holistically
The smell of the opened sunflower
Is it west or east?
Papa, sayeth not 'abracadabra'
Show me Papa
The same oak tree of old
The oak tree of old
Feel me, feel the
scars that mark my body
I scream in my mind, when I see you
This art is what keeps blood in our veins
Food in our stomach.
It is mere pretense, antiquated tricks
The small whisper, the thin wire
The glue and all the dark tricks
Maybe it’s time that I wake up to reality
Wake up and accept my failure
I could have been an oasis of hope
You could have been the perfection you always wanted
But I chose magic
And I chose your ruin
Go on and paint the failure right on my face
Papa
Glisten thy colours
There is a 'mujer' in your wand
Peguin in your chant
Papa
Sayeth not Abracadabra
Our walls thimbled
Yet we will build with thickest honey
Swerve, the sin of the king 'diabolic'
His seduction
No Papa
Sayeth not Abracadabra
Shh! Sayeth not.
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