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the brain

the most complex instrument known to man

.

everything we do

say

think

feel

is determined

by the brain

.

but what do we really know about the brain

well

we know we have to look inside

to answer that question

.

i don't know what's going on in your mind

you don't know what's going on in mine

that is of course as it should be

however

we have a duty to understand something

about what's going on in our own brains

.

the key to this is relaxation

the best apparatus

a comfortable chair

lie back

relax

.

the brain has two halves

left and right

the left makes us move

the right makes us dream

dreams are what makes the world go around

dreams

another one lost another one found

.

where was i

i'm wandering

we were talking about the brain

i'm very sorry

but you see the right side of my brain

has taken over for a while

it seems to have a mind of its own

well

there's really not much more to be said

.

good afternoon.

[music and lyrics by simon webb]

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music

is a dream

and like all dreams

it is sometimes

not quite

what it seems

.

behind the scenes

there are the manipulators of dreams

people who would use

any means

to control

your dreams

.

like emperors in luxury they fly

on magic carpets

they ride the sky

pirates of the airwaves

let loose on your mind

what will they touch

what will they find

.

music is a dream

and like all dreams

it is sometimes

not quite

what it seems

.

behind the scenes

there are the manipulators of dreams

computer fiends

and their infernal machines

.

 they dream for you

in 3D sound

inside your head

all around

.

they dream for you

dream for you

weave their spell on you

.

dream for you

in 3D sound

inside your head

all around

all around

all around

.

they dream for  you

in 3D sound

inside your head

all around

.

they dream for you

inside your head

they dream for you

so dream with them

dream again

.

[music and lyrics by simon webb]

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quite alone

sat the sad man

his eyes so full of gloom

like the entrance

of a phantom

into a city room

writing poems

on the wind

as it filtered

through his hands

and cast his thoughts

and memories

across the arid land

.

like gospel

were his lyrics

like gold

was his verse

like torn up hearts in writing

like the poor man's empty purse

.

and yet

through all the sadness

some comfort

entered in

as watching

the whole universe

sorrow

reached to him

singing songs

of love and hate

came voices

from the sky

or maybe

from inside his mind

teardrops

filled his eye

.

like gospel

were his lyrics

like gold

was his verse

like torn up hearts in writing

like the poor man's empty purse

his thoughts

became reality

his poems

had fallen true

yet noone remained

but he alone

no them

no me

no you

.

time

exploded

in his mind

and all the years

passed

by

they blew aloft

across the wind

the sad man

breathed

a sigh

.

[music by simon webb / lyrics by keith box]

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