We’re meaning making

Making meaning out of things we think we’re thinking

Sometimes we think we maybe dreaming

Of machines for making pie

But these machines for making pie

May sometimes take you by surprise

As pie in dreams cannot be tasted

And pie in dreams is in the sky

And if you fill you face with pastry

You may become both large and lazy

Dazed and confused, ‘Hazy Fantazy’

Without the stuff to satisfy

So take the thought that’s made the meaning

Poke it, prod it make it squirm

Chuck it hard onto the ceiling

If it sticks then it’s a dream

But if it’s not, the thought has meaning

It may just hit you in the face

We make these meanings for a reason

To hide the fears we cannot trace

The machine is you, the meaning-feeling

But you cannot think these feelings out

However bright you think you may be

Take this thought and please don’t doubt

If we’re machines for making meaning

And meaning makes our lives so light

Then the machine for life has somehow broken

We’re not machines, so that’s not right!

Richard Lee  September 2006