Lyrics
In the theatre of each passing moment
Disembodied voices direct the act that we act
Through the noise of each identical day
We still hear the music that makes us dance
But somewhere deep inside
Or so the story goes
There is a sacred place
And within those limits, the true self is contained
We've built museums and galleries
For all our depictions of life
We invite people, the people come
And that's the magic of our minds
Every trick of the eye is by design
Sorrow and ageing and weakness and need (and need)
No such limits in the realm of dreams
But the more that we keep to ourselves
The less we recognize what the mirror sees
We are fluent in every genre and movement
May our canvas be never clean
Seems what we draw and draw upon
Is the most that we can be