Besedila: Moody Blues. On The Threshold Of A Dream. In The Beginning.

I think
I think I am
Therefore I am
I think

Ofcourse you are my bright little star
I've miles and miles of files, pretty files of your forefather's fruit
And now to suit our great computer
You're magnetic ink

I'm more than that
I know I am
Atleast, I think
I must be

There you go man, keep as cool as you can
Face piles and piles of trials with smiles
It riles them to believe that you perceive the web they weave
And keep on thinking free