Lyrics
I write the time across my wristFour twelve beside the stationOne fresh roll, one fixed lensNo room for explanation
I choose a corner I can watchA bench, a sign, a crossingI take one frame and lower itThen wait for something honest
The print comes up beneath the redA paper cup on concreteA cyclist down beside the curbWhite flowers at her feet
Nothing has happened yetThe street is standing stillI hold the photographAnd wait against my will
Before it happensI already knowThe wheel will slipThe flowers will go
Before it happensThe frame says whenI watch the streetAnd it happens again
Four seventeen, a silver carStops too far past the crossingA paper cup rolls from the curbExactly where I saw it
Then tires scrape against the paintThe bicycle goes sidewaysWhite flowers scatter by my shoesFive minutes after my frame
I should be satisfiedA test is meant to endInstead I load another rollAnd raise the lens again
If I can see five minutesWhat happens if I waitIf I keep pressing forwardDoes the distance change
TAKE THE FRAMECHECK THE CLOCKWATCH IT COMERIGHT ON TOP
FIVE MINUTESTHREE MINUTESCLOSER EACH TIMETHE CAMERA IS MOVINGAHEAD OF MY EYES
Before it happensI already knowThe light turns redThe stranger goes
Before it happensThe frame gets nearI press the shutterAnd something appears
The last frame shows the crossingEmpty except for meAnd someone at the far endFacing the camera directly
