They call me The Wizard cause I got abracadabra written on my sleeves; can’t get close to me cause my fire burns liars pants with ease. Snort the magic dust, now it’s me they can’t see.
This Wizard lives, didn’t you read the end? Harry Potter defeats Voldemort and lives to tell of what he did. So say I, The Wizard has emerged; don’t under estimate me I’ll leave you buried in a pile of your own words. You’re not the only one who lied to me. Right, but it was you who was planting the seeds. You don’t deserve a garden, all you grow is hate. Don’t be acting crazy and neglectful and blame it on people who don’t support or propagate your wyrd sense of fate.
The Wizard has seen what you have to offer and I laugh. I can’t be bought. What happened to your proverbial window and your ethics you so easily threw out; under the Blood Red Moon, I remember it clear. The Wizard doesn’t forget cause The Wizard has risen above fear.