When the pixie dust has ran out
And all that’s left are the shards of fantasy,
I’d treasure your memory that stays in my sleeve
And know you won’t be here in reality.
When the spell of the wand is gone
And the clouds steered clear so the moon could shine,
I’d go back to my corner with the feeling you’ve awakened
And know, looking back, that was a crime.
When the trick of the light has left,
And the scars I covered start to peek,
I’d pat my back for the prevented theft
And rinse my heart with the tears that had leaked.