The Magician´s Assistant کے بول

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.