The day the black
magic died
Along the dust
after May 9
The powerful ones
had fallen
The wind blew them
away
The 32 bits the
leader had
In his pockets he
couldn’t let it go
He finds it hard to
keep it a secret
He has to face the
knock on his keys
Now the conductor
will hit the score
The fat keyboards
will ring out loud
With the vibration
hitting it high
The public wants it
to be in orange attire
The whisper in the
wind
The sound will be
known far and wide
The day of the
black magic
It died on May 9
Now the fat mama
Waking up at 12
midnight
The sound of the
wind whispering
She isn’t far
behind
The roar in her
ears
She knows the score
well
She can’t tell her
tales
She will be suit up
in orange
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