[Verse 1] Pencil marks on a page of white A small blue curve in the lamp’s soft light You draw a path, then it slips away A shape that changes when measured today [Chorus] I’m somewhere in the turning A probability in motion Not a dot you can hold still But a wave across the open [Verse 2] Three little lobes where the numbers meet A cloud of chances, no fixed heartbeat You ask where I am; the answer is wide A thousand near places, folded inside [Chorus] I’m somewhere in the turning A probability in motion Not a dot you can hold still But a wave across the open [Outro] Close the book, let the question remain A quiet shape beyond the frame
