Театр +++++++

[Verse 1] In the theater of the mind, a play runs with no intermission, Thoughts-as-actors play their parts by strict commission. The director’s not in the seats, nor ever leaves the stage— What’s really going on? Hell if anyone can gauge. [Verse 2] Qualia shift the colors, change the light, All is subjective—like a dream or fable bright. Stream of consciousness: darkness, light… No answer in sight. [Instrumental] [Verse 3] Free will’s like jazz—improvised, yet framed, Spontaneous in feel, but within a phrase it’s named. Are neurons the musicians playing qualia’s theme? [Bridge – Slower, contemplative] Maybe absurdity is the only truth we own— In a world where the riddle solves itself alone. Paradox isn’t a flaw—it’s how we’re made to be: The riddle and its answer—just one consciousness, you see. [Chorus] I’m the actor in a play I myself devise, Playing the one who wrote the rules I dramatize. The audience cheers the figure on the stage— Yet everyone wears a mask at once, in this strange mirage. [Outro – Harmonica, with quiet acceptance] Let the show go on with no final scene… For the mystery is—there’s no mystery unseen. [Verse 1 - Russian] В театре ума идёт спектакль без антракта У Мыслей-актёров роли по контракту Режиссёр ни в зале не сидит, ни сцену не покидает Что вообще происходит фик его знает