Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (Canonical) · Track 436 · middle
The Experiment That Wore a Suit
Buckminster Fuller
Lyrics
[Verse 1] Your dome rises where the mind maps space— synaptic plasticity blooming through struts, each triangle a neuron learning to fire in patterns that never collapse. You saw the whole Earth as one breathing thought, your hands building what your cortex predicted: tension and compression dancing, long-term potentiation humming in steel. The geodesic whispers: *more with less*, and your hippocampus consolidated it all— every angle, every curve, the way a skull protects what thinks. [Chorus] You built the dome that thinks like we think, hollow yet infinite, phantom yet real, your geometry sings the body's own song— tensegrity, tensegrity, *feel it, feel it*, where the inside holds the outside true, and every strut learns what every strut knew. [Verse 2] Your myelination accelerates, speeding thought down silver roads of frequency and grace. The mirror neurons fire—*we become you becoming us*— watching your fingers trace the air, theta waves rolling through your vision, consciousness remapping itself through structure. You dared the world: *think spherically*, and axonal branching spiraled outward, predictive coding in your drawings, the brain rehearsing what the Earth required. [Chorus] You built the dome that thinks like we think, hollow yet infinite, phantom yet real, your geometry sings the body's own song— tensegrity, tensegrity, *feel it, feel it*, where the inside holds the outside true, and every strut learns what every strut knew. [Bridge] Neurogenesis in every blueprint, interoception tuning the whole— you felt the planet's pulse before science named it, proprioception of the cosmos, your hands alive with knowing. [Chorus] You built the dome that thinks like we think, hollow yet infinite, phantom yet real, your geometry sings the body's own song— tensegrity, tensegrity, *feel it, feel it*, where the inside holds the outside true, and every strut learns what every strut knew. [Outro] The dome still stands, your synapses still firing, each visitor stepping inside your thought— touching the struts where your mind touched infinity, protected, held, spherical, *home*.