Death to magic

Look now at the seven rings, the rings most vital and unclean

They slide right on each finger slowly, and have their half-life most unholy

Where we live today in should've been light, so we ought never forget the forged delight; this ring that batteries blow in two, and never ever mingle through

We come to hope that technology won, that magic is forever gone; we like our cars and GPS — now brake your wound and carol less

Death to monadic magic and kabbalah, all those things of non-ontological thought, that all begin with even "al" — an now this building will stand most tall.

Death to magic, we have it gone; we burnt the staffs and slaughtered the mancers; mancers of meg & mag and things most un-el.

Let HE be the one most super — DEATH TO MAGIC, WE LIKE OUR CARS AND GPS'S!