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I refuse to believe that magic is dead,

There has to be more than this conflict in my head.

For I Work and Work,

Through the Fray,

Just to make a little pay.

Hour by Hour,

And Day by Day,

Through the Years I'm Forced to stay.

For Machinery Grinds and Melts away,

Visions of a Better Place.

So has Magic Died,

Or Flown away,

Leaving us to our terrible fate.

NO!

I Refuse to believe that Magic is Dead,

There has to be more than this Hell that I am in.

Can our Tears set us Free?,

And return us to that Lost Harmony?

For through the tears,

And Hearts so Blue,

We saw a Gate, through the Gloom.

What Joy it brought to our Souls,

Through the Friendship that it showed.

Now we are a Pony Folk,

Our Numbers Small, but Hearts so Strong,

Full of Love and Hope so new,

Laughter and Singing will see us through.