(also known as Stopping... have you ever noticed that the word "stopping" makes no sense? How can you be stop-ing? You're stopping, now? No. You're either still going, or you've stopped. There is no "stopping".)
lyrics
Why do I make all these movements?
They flash and splinter
They don't make sense
They grind and divide
They shift and sing
They don't produce
Fertile offspring
Where do I put my hands and feet?
You look at me, I freeze like fate
Why are we here?
Where did we go?
When did we leave?
Is it too late?
It's over
Going on
Making conversation
The image center
A worn-out scene
Now that my soul
Is on TV
Born in this body
I'm on the spot
Just like a picture
I stop
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