Do God Wop

My bones are starting to show through
My eyes are dark and hollow
It's all because I'm missing you
It's getting hard for me to swallow

If magic doesn't really come
Why did you say it did?
If it's just a fantasy for some
What do I tell the kids?

Dear god, I come to you in all humbilitude, as a representative for the children. Yes, they're the ones who aksed me to come to you and talk to you about this particular subject. That subject being that little saying you gave us when we were in bible school at camp Tanico, "Aks and ye shall receive". Now what we aksed for was, "Can you please just tell us what the fuck's going on? Does magic really come?" I don't mean to be irreverent or anything like that. I wouldn't dare, would I? But you see I'm standing here at Dub Vallard's Frosty Freeze at the corner of Highway Sixty-Seven and Salinburger Street. The home of a lovely girl with a poodle haircut named Cindy. To whom I gave one cleat, a football cleat, because I couldn't afford the fifteen that the doctor's sons could. You see, we're kind of lost out here, god. I've got this fucking snow cone in my hand and it's dripping down. And we're wondering, since you're kind of the doctor of the universe, could you give us a little cream or something for that? Could you just help us out a smidgen? Kind of looking for a clue. I mean, not in the mystery sense, not in the Humphrey Bogart sense, but just in the sense that we want to know what to do when we wake up in the morning and our heart is beating out of our fucking chest. And it hurts