Standing in the room of the whitest space
The pointellist brush of the finger paints
The millions of dots that begin to make
A slowed down picture of you
A semi colour spark in the summer heat
Your happiest hands and your solemn feet
The movement of a minimal masterpiece
A slowed down picture of you
And looking at it closely you never see
How singular strokes can completely be
A synaesthesic dot matrix symphony
A slowed down picture of you
Surrounded every side by a patterned dance
Oscillating pixels at every glance
And looking at the whole keeps the frame enhanced
A slowed down picture of you
And though
Behind the fire of knowing your mind
Still lies a fire of incompleteness
And oh
Behind the fire of knowing your mind
Still lies a fire of incompleteness
Every single bit of every single life
Starts to vibrate alive in the summer time
You are a power source, you are an atom bomb
Or you are nothing at all, nothing at all
Every single bit of every single life
Starts to vibrate alive in the summer time
You are a power source, you are an atom bomb
Or you are nothing at all, nothing at all
Every single bit of every single life
Starts to vibrate alive in the summer time
You are a power source, you are an atom bomb
Or you are nothing at all, nothing at all
Standing in the room of the whitest space