Cut me in half, make me disappear -
its all smoke machines and a two-way mirror.
Turn me nto a thousand doves and
I´ll put my hand inside your little white glove.
I know all your secrets (and I just mght tell)
but tonight you´ve got me under
Your magic spell...
I´ll sing at your funeral
When you fake your own death,
I´ll hold you under-water
While we hold our breath - hocus pocus,
It´s coming into focus (the tricks you played on me),
I was born a skeptic baby
But you taught me to believe.
Can you escape from this one with no harm done?
With no blood shed, and all´s intact,
if you bite it once it bites back...
Magic (magic) is once nice and
Magic (magic) is twice tragic,
Magic (magic) is an open call,
an open call calling all dramatics.