If someone grew up in a cubicle as Plato once suggested
They would only know the cubicle and not the world outside it
And they wouldn't view the cubicle as something geometric
We only know it's a cubicle because we live outside it

Now the one inside the cubicle can't comprehend his measurements
Because measurements are models made up for and by observers
Relative to their position on the outside of the cubicle
Though understand objectively so they can study further

If I grew up in a cubicle the walls are in my universe
I have no knowledge of the entirety like the outsiders do
If you follow what I say and can swallow the powdered water
Close your eyes and open your minds, this one's for you

And the brain equals a cubicle we'll never think outside it
Now inside wanna try to tie a diagram to modify them
I'm there as a hybrid of a body of a pirate
Of a soul that can fly without control

Realizing the brain ticks at six billion signals per second
And most of which are hidden and not given to the senses
Whether to do a few futile primitive tools to perception
livin in a universal pool of first hand deception

The mind's job is to recieve the signals
And block out the ones that don't coincide with imprinted symbols
That way the information you obtained is recognized
Reality is thinkable and comparable to space and time

It makes a map of the territory that gives us
The topic of the Copenhagen interpretation of modern quantum
Physics which states we dont know the meal
We only know the menu that our brains tell us is real

We don't know the rules of our heads
From inside these cubicles we cant see the truth
No one really knows exactly what happens when we think
Therefore we can never really ever know anything

This is the consciousness revolution
You got the right to think
Don't think about it just do it

Nice. It's poetic.

I am hoping you wrote that, otherwise death will be apon you.

If you did GJ. Sometimes I wish I could write poetry (Not very often but still).