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The Disillusionist

In autumn he comes to this town

When the peoples guard is down

On a day like today

Overcast and gray

Bells were all ringing

The birds stopped their singing

The wind caught in the trees

Screaming to be free

He alights from the platform

In his usual uniform

His skin looks like he slept in it

Or had something rotten kept in it

And snakes stir in the thistles

Back of cats neck bristles

'Round vicious lips the fur is stained

The disillusionist is back again



They say that he's famous from the waist down

But the top half of his body is a corpse

His gold won't buy him sleep

His poverty runs so deep

In winter he cracks, in summer he warps



Hang around the backstage door

But he knows what you're waiting for

You rub yourself against his fame

Already ready to bear the blame

He asks you "Did you like my show?"

As if he really wants to know

Then doesn't wait for your reply

He just pulls you back inside

You've started feeling dizzy

It isn't you or is he

Persuade you mentally

Undress you incidentally

Down the swaying corridor

People you feel sorry for

But when he puts the gaze on you

You're amazed at what you'll let him do



He can turn wine into water

Mother against daughter

Juggles busy deadlines

Gets himself off headlines

Surrounded by his minions

Who never have opinions

Performing little tricks for you

Puts it in a fix for you

Smashes your watch with a hammer

Caresses you with camera

And says the magic words

That nobody's ever heard

Now the slur is fading

Reality all-pervading

It only makes you want him more

It only makes you fawn him more



And he does the Indian rope trick

The one that makes you seasick

And he keeps on filling up your cup

But you keep on filling up

And some of it's done with mirrors

And some of it's done with scissors

And some of it's done with cables

And his hands under the table

It doesn't matter you want to believe

It doesn't matter if you have to leave

You won't escape his orbit

And the things that you must forfeit

And the audience seems familiar

Some of them in particular

Bet you they are his plants

When he plays the game of chance

He reads the minds of jilted girls

And the story really unfurls

Cast a fortune for the man in the suit

Who's suffering is very acute

There's a rabbit in his hat

But I thought I smelled a rat

The Church

The Disillusionist / The Church

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