The Magician

When the smoke clears, what's left?
Goodbye, goodbye

You drop a kid in gasoline
And give him a lit match
And slap him on the ass
When he lights himself aflame

Like the man who pays his wife
Two hundred pounds to have sex
Because it's the only way he can come

Like the girl, born a princess
Too early or too late
Who waits and waits and knows she'll never be queen

What's left? What's left?

The senile cat's incessant meow
The children's favourite canned cow
The soundtrack of an unkept house
The soundtrack of an abandoned spouse

What's left?

The whirring cogs of futile despair
The anguish of unanswered prayers
The writhing mass of moaning torment

What's left?

You lure a fly to a blazing lamp
Shut the lid tight
And watch it dance about
'Til it dies
Like Sirin's chimp
Who, when given a pen
Draws only the bars of his cage

Like the gown unworn
Like the lawn unmowed overgrown
Like the car, all rust
Like the lungs, black with tar
Like the bones, black with dust
Like the heart, black with shame
Like the eyes, black with age
Like the stillborns living in his formaldehyde grave
Like his mouth open, crying out to be saved

What is left?
What is left?
What is left?
What is left?

And I'm hiding from the government
And my fictional wife
From my dreams and from my memories
I am running from my life
I'm hiding from you, I'm hiding from you
I'm hiding from you

I'm hiding from my mistress
And her dream sextets
I'm hiding from my family
I'm hiding from the explanations
Of all I've been doing wrong
I'm hiding from you, I'm hiding from you
I'm hiding from you

I'm hiding from your lips
I'm hiding from your mouth
I'm hiding from your room
I'm hiding from doubt
I'm hiding from living
I'm hiding from everything

When did I meet you?
Maybe three years ago
So much has happened since
You were a million fears ago
So many since have taken your place
A million more things to keep me awake
No, I don't sleep any more
I just rest my eyes
I'm running from your lips
I'm running from your cries
Your convulsions that crack
The crust of the earth
Your pantomime moans
So forced, so rehearsed

Your little tongue
That moves mountains
That moves man to madness
Your little tongue
That deceives and administers lies,life
Your little tongue in the ocean
The iceberg that kills
Your little tongue in my mouth
Your little blade in my side

You're the first I call
I hate the sound of your voice
I hate the words you use
The phrases you think so choice
But I'd kiss you a million times
If you'd only turn your head
You'll never turn your head
Because just like me, you're not alive, you're dead

In the German black forest of which I know nothing
I dream you ride a black horse
Back and forth
Back and forth

With no compass to follow
Or landmark to reach
You perambulate aimlessly through nondescript trees
In the nondescript forest
Of which I know nothing
And can't visualise
Save your faint silhouette
And I clutch and it evades
And I awake from the dream
No, no, none of it's real
I don't sleep, I don't sleep!
I wander through cowardice, thoughts
And regret
Through nothingness, through sagas
That never took place
Your kiss, never given
And your touch, never felt
Your words, never spoken
Your gift, never dealt
Your lies, all around
Your deceit, infinite
I'm hiding from your never ending torrent of shit

Like the spouse happily married
Who still dies alone
Like the world famous actor
Still completely unknown
Like the German black forest
Of you I know nothing
I know not your eyes, your skin, your stench
Your sins, your arms, your hold, your heart
Your folds, your nails, your grip, your grin
Your tics, your sex, your shame
I know only your name

What's left of the lover
Who doesn't exist?
Who knows not how many fantasies
Involve her kiss?
What's left of the dreamer
Who dreams, and dreams, and dreams and dreams
And who thinks he isn't dreaming
But thinks that he is free
And what of the endless, heedless, needless are we
And what of the endless, heedless, needless are we
And what of the endless, heedless, needless are we
Will it end
Will it ever let me be?

No, When the smoke clears, it rains, it pours
When it rains, it pours
When it rains, your name
When the smoke clears, what's left?



Credits
Writer(s): Morgan Simpson, Cameron Overeynder, Geordie Greep
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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