Some say that I'm wielding the powers,
That I believe in a wood stick I found on the ground, I make magic.
Attractive or not it's all that I got, barely holds me together, with all of my might I'm not sure I can still hold on when the sun goes home for the night, will I wake up and lose my mind or go back to the nightmares I've been trying to let go for so long I can hear my own voice in the back of my head like the shadows I wear across my back, it's sacred but I wouldn't lie about it now, could it be the time, can you say it's the time, I'd move my hand but then I'd start to speak, the kinds of things I've been keeping you from, not because you're dumb I just want to ignore me for a few minutes longer, you're much better off with only my good half, I'd try to unwind within your eyesight but I'm sure I would crumble into the dust. You are the magic, I'm just a kind of catastrophe carrying this story about a boy and the girl who drew star maps on her arms, like wings made to uplift him until they could both fly away, yesterday she put a stone on top of his grave