Magic is what happens when the sun rises, When last night’s decisions come through. They line up straight, all neat they create, The intention of ruining you. Excuses are next, as they pour in your head, Your defence; the only by your side. It perks up your back, guides down the track, ‘They’re not gonna know you’ve lied.’ As the sun gets higher and the room gets brighter, The evidence is washed bright with light. It could be the drink, the vomit in the sink, Irrelevant as the guilt casts tight. Things now seem so different, but is that the point? The reality is always more tragic. Last night I regret, I wish to reset, That opportunity we know as magic.