I'm Out of Magic Wands

We reach towards a remedy in this
Grey world of misery and melting ice
And as our toes test out the near abyss
We turn to neighbours for some smart advice.
He shrugs his shoulder and she laughs too loudly;
They look toward the rest but get the same
Vague shrugs and laughs – until a voice says proudly,
“We all should call again on what’s-his-name.”
“Oh, please, come back,” we all say now, “oh, please –
We live in daily fear that warming air,
A madman’s bomb or some doomsday disease
Will get us all and you don't seem to care.”
Then from the clouds their what’s-his-name responds,
“Do it yourself – I’m out of magic wands.”