| He’s got a list of things he knows he wants to make
|
| He put em in his notebook back in the day
|
| When he felt pure inspiration rushing through his veins
|
| And the pages after that one are all blank
|
| They just sit there on his nightstand
|
| While he’s watching movies on his screens
|
| He falls asleep before he can see
|
| There is no later
|
| Just lots of little frames
|
| Where we all animate what happens now
|
| We’re flipping papers to make our pictures move
|
| Each second’s ours to choose, just look around
|
| You’re not broken
|
| You’re stop motion
|
| When the sun’s out and he’s almost half-awake
|
| He’s got a list of things he knows he wants to make
|
| But he slept through his alarm again
|
| He’s 13 minutes late
|
| For the job that he swears someday he’ll escape
|
| And he rushes past the pages
|
| That could make his life a different thing
|
| He hits repeat before he can see
|
| There is no later
|
| Just lots of little frames
|
| Where we all animate what happens now
|
| We’re flipping papers to make our pictures move
|
| Each second’s ours to choose, just look around
|
| You’re not broken
|
| You’re stop motion
|
| I know the sinking feeling
|
| That comes at first in empty space
|
| But what if that’s the only place
|
| Where we can make our pictures change?
|
| Don’t wait
|
| There is no later
|
| Just lots of little frames
|
| Where we all animate what happens now
|
| We’re flipping papers to make our pictures move
|
| Each second’s ours to choose, just look around
|
| You’re not broken
|
| You’re stop motion
|
| Keep going |