There is a sigh of words drained from the bitterness of your mouth
warning me again of the magic that is stored
this magic tricking me, scratching at my heart
making it open to the simple words of praise and fortune
opening to absorb these simple words so greatly
this magic shows how much one love can hurt
how much one life cannot heal
and how much magic cannot survive in a world that cannot believe
this magic was shown in the worst kind of statue
performing so slowly, so stiffly its as if so forgotten
so misunderstood to the one who cannot feel its presence
its lies showing simple words that defeat the purpose of its innocence
shattering the true beauty of the statements my imagination
playing as if so played out and so perfected
knowing with all certainty that this love cannot be real
but still lying to one self to prove that it once was such magic
able to lift, to fly, to shadow the main truth of lost love aside
to pursue the greatness of a thing we call love
to hide the true facts that one cannot love
and to in fact destroy the beliefs of one girl
in a little thing called magic
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