Magic

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Jack Droppers & the Best Intentions

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Between all my dullest thoughts and bright ideas
I am prone to overthink this

One toe after another cross the county line
The wonders that I tend to dismiss 
 
Every single word I either said or sung
is tied round my ankle as I’m flung
Over the edge, into the deep
Where I find you
Staring at me!

Tell me what I gotta know
To find what I’m lookin for
To find magic in the mundane
Lookin for magic

whenever I stumble upon an answer
The nature of the question changes

So all the truth I thought I held when I was young
Is constantly rearranging 

I came up to the shore
And in the thicket of the trees
I saw your silhouette
Moving slowly toward me

There were eleven polished stones
In the palm of your hand
And the twelfth was in your mouth
As you were licking off the sand

your eyes we’re adjusted
To the pigment of the deep
they looked so oftly silent 
as you started to speak

Sayin’ 
Love is the closest thing we got
Do you really want to believe?

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