[INTRO — PICKAXE STRIKES, BOOTS RUNNING] Coal counted. Wood stacked. Water hauled—again, like it never stays done. Seven beds made. No breakfast—just the thought of it passing by. I’m already moving before the world decides what I am today. If I slow down, something might catch up. So I don’t. I don’t. I don’t. [VERSE 1] Up before the light remembers my name, down where the stone forgets I came, hands already busy, already claimed, like stillness itself is something to blame. Fix the hinge, mend the crack, never look at what I lack, if I keep the world in order tight maybe it won’t look back. Snow is standing in the doorway again, like she’s been there longer than time allows. “You’re early,” I say. She says, “You never stopped being late to yourself.” I laugh like that’s not a thing that can hurt. [PRE-CHORUS] I say, “If I stop, everything falls apart.” She says, “Or maybe you do.” I say, “That’s not helpful.” She says, “It’s not meant to be comfortable.” [CHORUS] IF I STOP— IT GETS LOUD. All the things I buried in motion start speaking out loud. So I run, so I build, so I busy my hands, so I don’t have to stand where I am. If I stop— if I stop— it gets loud. [VERSE 2] I fix what isn’t broken just in case it might be, I carry what’s heavy so no one can see me, I answer for people before they can ask, I turn every moment into a task. Snow sits on the edge of the workbench now, like she’s always been part of the room. “You’re very useful,” she says. I nod. “That’s the point.” She tilts her head. “Is it?” I don’t answer that one. Because answers slow things down. And slowing down is dangerous. [PRE-CHORUS] I say, “People need me like this.” She says, “Or you need them to need you.” I say, “That’s the same thing.” She says, “No. It isn’t.” [CHORUS] IF I STOP— IT GETS LOUD. Every voice I outran in the hallway comes gathering now. So I stack, so I fix, so I keep it all tight, so I don’t have to sit in the night. If I stop— if I stop— it gets loud. [BRIDGE — SLOWING DOWN] The tools don’t move on their own. The room doesn’t fall apart. Nothing happens. That’s the problem. Nothing happens. And in that nothing, I hear it— not noise— not chaos— just me. Breathing. Still here. Still here. Still here. [Snow, softly] You’re allowed to be here without doing anything. I don’t know what that means. I think I do. I just don’t trust it. [FINAL CHORUS — SLOW, OPEN] IF I STOP— IT DOESN’T BREAK. The world keeps turning without my hands on the weight. And the silence I feared like a flood in the night is just… air. Just light. Just right. If I stop— if I stop— I might stay. [OUTRO] I set the tool down. It doesn’t scream. It doesn’t fall. It just… rests. Snow doesn’t move. Neither do I. For a moment, nothing needs me. And I don’t run from it.
