The Magic...

happens in the corners of rooms,

is seen from the impossible of your eye,

there are no angles in spheroids.

They do it with mirrors and smoke.

Single exposures do not lie,

there are no faeries in Polaroids.

We need two looking glasses

to see ourselves as we really are:

our own image is transposed in our brain.

We do it with mirrors and smoke.

Science and progress do not lie,

we are the fathers of humanoids.

Mysteries await us in bright-lit homes,

are seen through the cataracts in our eyes:

our own history is replayed in slow time,

we blur it with mirrors and smoke

Neuron impulses do not lie,

until they tangle in amyloids.