Going, going, going, gone.
Riding down a sliver stream on a lilly pad,
counting the stars,
Sipping vodka and flicking cigarette butts into the lonely night.
The stone boy crumbled long ago,
and the scaffolding never existed.
The monsters under my bed were just that, illusions.
The last silver wisps of magic have vanished into the deep, blue night.
Silence is all around.
What is a world, without magic?
What is a world, devoid of dreams and childish wonder?
It's a wonder it took me this long to begin to grow up.
But the adult world is cold and unfriendly place,
lacking in the sunshine and warmth of the universe we call childhood.
And it seems to me,
that a life without magic,
is no life at all.
Riding down a sliver stream on a lilly pad,
counting the stars,
Sipping vodka and flicking cigarette butts into the lonely night.
The stone boy crumbled long ago,
and the scaffolding never existed.
The monsters under my bed were just that, illusions.
The last silver wisps of magic have vanished into the deep, blue night.
Silence is all around.
What is a world, without magic?
What is a world, devoid of dreams and childish wonder?
It's a wonder it took me this long to begin to grow up.
But the adult world is cold and unfriendly place,
lacking in the sunshine and warmth of the universe we call childhood.
And it seems to me,
that a life without magic,
is no life at all.
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