When all the magic is gone
we will crawl from checkpoint to checkpoint
with dull great white eyes
always hungry
always starving ourselves
gotta look good for the summer
when all the magic is gone
we will howl out for sacrifice
it’s shoe harvesting season
and you’ve gotta cop some of this crop
when all the magic is gone
the national anthem will change with top 100
and when the air is stale
the prophets and poets will be driven out of town
to test their mettle in uncaring wilderness
when the magic is gone
we will hail the president on bended knee - blindfolded
when the magic is gone
everything will be trending
and nobody will give a ****
so get your abra kadabras in now
you don’t know how much magic we have left