It's pressure
It's a reckoning
It's giving in, and it's beckoning
You're calling me in for another round
With your winning smile, and your clever grin
And your deadbolt door, let's begin again
And it really doesn't mean
A thing
It's bending spoons and a trap door
It's counting cards and a mirror
And the hand is always faster than the eye
It's cables and a false floor
It's a helper in the crowd I see
And there's nothing in my hand
Nothing up my sleeve
Nothing up my sleeve
It's a game, and you're playing.
And I'm hearing what you're saying
And they're calling us in for another round
But what's in your hands isn't adding up
And it's just a game, and you're out of luck
And there's nothing in your hand that can get us out
It's bending spoons and a trap door
It's counting cards and a mirror
And the hand is always faster than the eye
It's cables and a false floor
It's a helper in the crowd I see
And there's nothing in my hand
Nothing up my sleeve
Nothing up my sleeve
Mercy comes in many forms
It can raise or low
Pick a card
Hold it in your mind
It's bending spoons and a trap door
It's counting cards and a mirror
And the hand is always faster than the eye
It's cables and a false floor
It's a helper in the crowd I see
And there's nothing in my hand
Nothing up my sleeve
Nothing up my sleeve