They get the magic;
I get the Ramada.
Lots of fuckers say they’re wizards;
Lucky me; I got believed.
Kids get the rain dance;
I get the plane ride.
I ask for pears and I don’t get them.
The pears would go nicely on that dealy-bob behind me.
Everywhere is some place,
They tell me.
Abbadon and the rest of the Abandoned Gods
With their noise engines.
All for them.
We get fruitless hotel rooms and
(With thx to Mr. Completely for the inspiration.)