The mirror on the wall Is eight miles tall And I do, do say All in all Minds work images Of their own revolution, yeah There must be a way now Through all this tall confusion So don't you bust their plans 'Cause there'll be a blindin' flash Of seven tall years hangin' Yeah ♪ So maybe all this superstitions Like a simple connection Of your education Which may be false deception You can look back to see Just what went wrong In a lonely take-up town And again you'll find That your mind's revolution Is the same evolution Which is, which is old, old news, yeah