We do not see the world.
What we see is our own mind,
We see ev'rything through glasses
That distort all the things that we find,
As if orange was the color of grasses,
Like those who believe that nothing surpasses
Their desires that crumble like broken fences,
As if a solid mountain range contained passes,
As if truth was determined by vote of the masses,
Or those who believe that the only thing we can grasp is
That which can be measured and observed by the five senses,
Unconcerned and unaware that all those things become ashes --
But all becomes clear when we think of this: ev'rything vanishes.