| the image is the heart which is made by imagination what we see in the mind's eye makes magic makes us magic | |
| Illusions paint schemes of dreams Dreams that we thought we could not touch Now flow through our fingers Like liquid sand | |
| Flowing through our veins, for ashes collect to dust And dust to ashes we shall return, but now our veins burst with flaming desire | |
| and even as the Phoenix, from those ashes redindle the hottest of fire. | |
| The mind's eye creates visions relished by sentient beings. | |
| And now we watch | |
| as those distant horizons of the once surreal are so close in our sight that now we can feel that elusive brass ring brushing our fingertips and can taste cherry sweet dreams upon our lips | |
| (At this point we try to capture another pic But the camera of our mind does stick. The memory's loaded to the max. Now you have to process the recent tracks. |

