MATHETΩN

There once was a Note, pure and easy,
playing so free, like a breath rippling by.
The note is eternal—I hear it—it sees me—
forever we blend and forever we die.

I listened, and I heard music in a word—
the words when you play your guitar.
The noise that I was hearing was a million people cheering;
and a child flew past me riding in a star.

As people assembled, civilization
was trying to find a new way to die.
But killing is really merely scene-changing,
and all men are bored with other men’s lies.

Gas on the hillside, oil in the teacup—
watch all the chords of life lose their joy.
Distortion becomes somehow pure in its wildness—
the Note that began all can also destroy!

We all know success when we all find our own dreams,
and our love is enough to knock down any walls;
and the future’s been seen as men try to realize
the simple secret of the note in us all.

There once was a note— Listen! There once was a note— Listen! There once was a note …

—The Who