There is no *** it's just a crock and not a rainbow
there are no pretty colours arching in the sky
no mass of gold
no leprechaun
I wonder why then was I born
if there's nothing here that I can tie
my dreams to
nothing to cling on to
it's all meaningless
I long to
disappear.

There must be magic and it must be
hiding somewhere
under laurel leaves or in some bales
of hay?
I wish I had a magic wand to show me
where the magic is
I'd find it right away.