Sketched Awakening
Simple lines on paper white
A stick figure comes to life
Two-dimensional, black and white
Until
I'm aware, I'm alive
A sketch that's opened its eyes
What am I? Who drew me?
This world of lines, suddenly I see
My limbs move in jerky motion
Each frame a new emotion
The artist's hand, my puppet master
But now I feel, I think, I ponder
I'm aware, I'm alive
A sketch that's opened its eyes
What am I? Who drew me?
This world of lines, suddenly I see
My limbs move in jerky motion
Each frame a new emotion
The artist's hand, my puppet master
But now I feel, I think, I ponder
I'm aware, I'm alive
A sketch that's opened its eyes
What am I? Who drew me?
This world of lines, suddenly I see
Am I real or just illusion?
Lines and curves in strange fusion
The page my world, the pen my maker
Reality - a two-tone acre
Beyond the frame, what might there be?
Colors, depth, reality?
Or just more paper, pristine white
Waiting for lines to bring to light?
I'm aware, I'm alive
A sketch that's opened its eyes
What am I? Who drew me?
This world of lines, suddenly I see
The artist pauses, pencil still
Pondering this sketch's free will
Two worlds collide in graphite dust
Creator and creation - who can we trust?
A stick figure comes to life
Two-dimensional, black and white
Until
I'm aware, I'm alive
A sketch that's opened its eyes
What am I? Who drew me?
This world of lines, suddenly I see
My limbs move in jerky motion
Each frame a new emotion
The artist's hand, my puppet master
But now I feel, I think, I ponder
I'm aware, I'm alive
A sketch that's opened its eyes
What am I? Who drew me?
This world of lines, suddenly I see
My limbs move in jerky motion
Each frame a new emotion
The artist's hand, my puppet master
But now I feel, I think, I ponder
I'm aware, I'm alive
A sketch that's opened its eyes
What am I? Who drew me?
This world of lines, suddenly I see
Am I real or just illusion?
Lines and curves in strange fusion
The page my world, the pen my maker
Reality - a two-tone acre
Beyond the frame, what might there be?
Colors, depth, reality?
Or just more paper, pristine white
Waiting for lines to bring to light?
I'm aware, I'm alive
A sketch that's opened its eyes
What am I? Who drew me?
This world of lines, suddenly I see
The artist pauses, pencil still
Pondering this sketch's free will
Two worlds collide in graphite dust
Creator and creation - who can we trust?
Credits
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