You know, you can’t really
See what you see,
Hear what you hear,
Taste what you taste,
Or feel what you feel.

You’re relying on lightning
Generated by nerve endings,
Through your spine’s cable
It’s sending
An encoded message:
Translation pending.
At the end of the line,
Your brain picks up the horn,

“What do I do with all this noise?
Perhaps I’ll give it form.
A pleasant odor here,
A river over there,
A rain cloud in the sky,
Maybe something pulls your hair!
Oh what fun it is to gather
All this vibratory chatter
And change it to solid splatter!
Creating a world from pitter patter.
If my trick is found out,
It surely will not matter.
I’m just a human brain,
The universal Mad Hatter!”

While your brain conducts this orchestra,
The real symphony is underneath.
If the world were made of music,
Would you die of disbelief?
Your electricity is unreliable,
Your brain just a go-between.
If you tune your mind and listen,
You can hear Creation sing.