If magic can be found
Even in the darkest of eyes
Then maybe there’s hope for me after all.

I may not be able to promise
Wishes that can grant your wildest dreams,

But I can try to shelter
From anything that tries to harm you,
Even if I’m not really
Shining in armour and
Decorated with gold.

If there’s hope for me yet,
Then maybe magic runs in my blood too.

Or maybe magic is what you make it
When you put a hand on my head
And put my hair out of place
And say
‘Thank you’.

Maybe the magic is in your touch
Rather than in my veins.

Maybe I’m simply
What you make me out to be;

I’m happy being that.