A hoofful of magic tricks vindicate a younger kid
Imitating others when she’s intimating wonderment
Kid is maybe rudderless, later needing answering
A brochure in her hoof, never graves or a family
Left trailing blues, stars dotted on his coat
It’s the first rule of showbiz, you got or you don’t
Watching from a crowd, sad too few knew the art
Daughter of tradition in a blue moon cutie mark
Pain past, shouldn’t be that carried away
Still her mind focuses on Prelapsarian days
Stare across the bar, needs to relax, mare is afraid
But there’s something in her mind thatstill needs that squaring away
Clearing smoke, move in the direction of tables
Then staring back at a face she recollected in playbills
Dinner-chat cancelled, a stallion that she’d find hiding
Trotting in his hoofsteps right to him and his eyes widen

Stage: old bar with some woodrot on the premise
Players: well, one, matched his unknown apprentice
The audience of several corner drinkers in attendance
The curtain: a young filly’s stern vision that she sets him.
He recognized her and this time he’s all out of smokebombs
A leg-shackle back to break backs so they won’t balm
Same voice older and she asks why he’d pass her off
Won’t get that showponies make trades, he’s a jack of all
Now the words run out her mouth in a torrent
And a washed-up magician has gotta frown and absorb it
Hearing one word of five in this lousy performance
Until finally she stops and goes soundless, he’s torpid
And they stare slow, she asks why he had to leave
Why’d he never come back, other kinds of saddlery
Tears are in her eyes, is it crazy that he wants to laugh?
Gentlecolts can watch the lovely filly getting sawn in half

[Hook]
You shouldn’t ask a pony bout his vanishing act
And I don’t want peace, put those doves back in your hat
If I had kept with you I wouldn’t have traveled at all
Looking to act as a father couldn’t have tackled the call
Heading for the ritz, don’t dismiss me cus you’re irate
You’ll understand yourself when you’re sitting here in my place
So dampen down your passions, when the path forks
You’ll either be out flying in the wings or retract courses

She stares at him, face twisting then in hate’s pollution
And her aura fills the room with her magic in fate’s denouement
She gets eyes averted or else staring and slackjawed
In a moment of impact, a filly can hit the jackpot
Like fine, this isn’t a reunion, it’s the end of something
I don’t need someone like you, I’ve got a friend to love me
And then she’s out and towards her wagon on the outskirts
His bragging comes to flounder, she’s ragged from encounters, proud first