Kept cramped and cloistered in isolation
bottled up, and bottled up inside
His only escape or exodus
has been those summonings
where he's made to manifest another's wishes
to deliver the dreams of others unto them
Sometimes their dreams leave him to wonder
why he can never live his own lonely dreams
or breathe inspired breath beyond his bottle
What if he could grant his own wild wishes
and fill the world with worthy wonders
Given the glut of all he's already granted
-all the other ambitions attained through his action
He imagines all the awe he could awaken
and give to greater minds
to be made greater in the awe they'd ponder
Then. What dreams they'd have for him to serve!
But The Genie knows his magic's not like that
He knows the world inside his bottle
will never find a world to serve outside it
And he knows the wishes he will grant
will only cast him back and bottled up again
He knows this cycle is in fact eternal
So he dreams of staying in his lamp
to shine his light unto itself
But there's always another grubby hand
with worthless wishes to summon back his soul
and the more of these dreams he serves
and the more of a nightmare this unleashes
the more he finds the wishful's final yearnings
turning all his dreams to that one dark whish
that would serve the words that all the wishful
always end up praying for him to grant
when the wishing's done and his power's lost
The whish to whish it all away
that we all might just live a another day
