It's a good night

I'm on a roll


The world is at war because of clever magicians.
They've killed enough doves, in a crudely formed guise
There methods are shallow, and baptized in mischief
Yet we applaud there pony act
And throw them our roses
Each magicians a player
Trying to out smart the other
Use there tactics against them
And bedazzle there devotees
I'm a follower I admit it
I give praise to performance
But the tricks they're presenting leave me tired and restless
I sleep and I wonder
'what part was the prestige?'
What part was the sacrifice
and what did we loose?
What gain was the audience?
Did we smile at the end?
Whatever it was, it all seemed pretend