a show to behold
Until it stops feeling natural. Turn of the century, old magician, a pale mistress. A show being held at the great Apostles theatre Gathering crowds and clapping hands All waitin for the great magician; Jon the Man Now his mother never called him Jon the Man Neither did the dead father. If birth certificate were to exist, He would be Jonathan McKellan Of irish descent. Blinding lights guided The lost dogs to center stage Blinded eyes were The fillers of the front row seats. Ladies, madams and gentlmen, Make a round For Jon Not any Jon was he Not any Jon was he Our ol’ man For us Jonathan Became Jon the Man, But even fires could consume The Man and his pugs For once upon a time There was a ring of fire At a show being held at the great Apostlestheatre Gathering frowns and screaming throats All watching the dead magician; Jon the Man. Now his mother never called him Jon the Man Neither had the chance to once again call him Jonathan. ...