It's a humid night, the moon is getting full again
Somewhere there's a slight figure made of paraffin
Someone is turning its head, someone is pulling its mane
It's magicIt's a restless cry, the doves are flying from her sleeves
One more's not so proud, like a convert he believes
He's always been looking for wives, now he knows none are required
It's magicWrap me up in chains with the magic words you say
Well, I can use my brain, I can make my getaway
And I will be your volunteer if you make this love disappear
Like magic

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS