Magician's Luck

The fabric underfoot, sometimes black and white

Otherly a subdued green hue sticking to our /səʊl/

We delve, with no choice, into the dim quarters

To mar -- oh! Mourning, we quicken our pace

The steady of the story, we push only upwards

Out of the ribboned hats which cave (we, never!)

Into the light of the squealing, the half-alive

Who would dare face the chewing masses

In the secrecy of night we huddle and play

Cards that shine and resist bending (we, never)

O’er the lake of laughter our masters reside

Gathering hurrahs for the way we hide