The book of magic

I opened my book of the magic, I whispered sophisticate words. I saw the theathre of tragic, The self-suicide of the crowds.

I raised the glass sphere of an Earth, I put eyes’ attention to it. I read whole the chapter of myth And I thought of mystery to keep.

Then I reached out for the bell And I rang sad melody and cried. It was the day I had only felt That my hope was about to die.

There are signs high above just for me, And I think that one day I’ll fulfill. Never lose, no – not hope, just the pride. So I’m still keeping eyes open wide. Just too wide.

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