Planck Length

(Verse One)

There was a man who woke up in early morn,
Wondering why his shirt was torn
And where was he before he was born.

Sat for about an hour in the shower stall
And watched the crystal water fall
But was he there even at all?

Delta 5
Minus 9
Inverse square
Over time

Carry 1
Retrograde
Vector of
E-magnetic wave

(Verse Two)

There was a man who walked out into the rain,
Missed his bus so he jumped the train.
Does losing one’s self reduce the pain?

He got off early seeing a broken wall,
Written on it in letters tall,
“If you’re not big then maybe you’re small”.

Sine of L
Prime of H
Parallel
Cartesian Plane

Factor in
Low degree
Reduction
Quantum gravity

Root of pi
Multiplied
Beta X
Theta Y

Total sums
Equal not
Answer was
Smaller than he thought

(Chorus)

Hey-oh, there’s no other way down.
It’ll be some kind of time from now until we hit the ground.
It goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on, it goes.

We’re smaller than a Planck length.
Suck it up,
Just got to let go.
Hey…

Hey-oh, this’ll be some kind of ride,
Nothing less ever than some wild times.
It goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on, it goes.

We’re smaller than a Planck length.
Suck it up,
Just got to let go.
Hey…

Hey-oh, we see no us inside.
1.6 x 10^-35.
It goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on, it goes.

We’re smaller than a Planck length.
Suck it up,
Just got to let go.
Hey…

(Verse Three)

If you’re not big then maybe you’re small.
That’s what he saw. Paint still dripping off the wall there.
Some vandal’s spray can lightning bolt bearing down
On him from out of nowhere.

This random string of words
Splayed across some random stack of bricks,
That line some random alley way
In some random corner of some random cityscape.

So he pondered where he was,
If he was.
What this ‘awakeness’ somewhere inside was made of,
The flicker of light the so called self is said to be comprised of.

Rule out the body in all of its change
It’s astronomical but ultimately pathologic,
And yet he’s seen darker days.
Well if not the body then how about the brain?

Throw this brain in another man’s suit
And I think he might argue that he’d probably be there too.
But synaptic, plastic, elastic
Is the nature of the neuron.

And memories are all just cascades of brain sparks
That are made up on the spot.
Patterns that another lobe in some other part
Perceives as being the essence of who you are.

And personality?
Program a copy or two of you.
Theoretical. Identical.
A philosophical tool
Or volatile fuel?
For these goddamn no-branching rules.

If you’re not big then maybe you’re small.
Bullshit or base line state?
So he says to himself, if I even exist at all, man,
I’m smaller than a Planck length.

(Chorus)

Hey-oh, there’s no other way down.
It’ll be some kind of time from now until we hit the ground.
It goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on, it goes.

We’re smaller than a Planck length.
Suck it up,
Just got to let go.
Hey…

Hey-oh, this’ll be some kind of ride,
Nothing less ever than some wild times.
It goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on, it goes.

We’re smaller than a Planck length.
Suck it up,
Just got to let go.
Hey…

Hey-oh, we see no us inside.
1.6 x 10^-35.
It goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on, it goes.

We’re smaller than a Planck length.
Suck it up,
Just got to let go.
Hey…

Album:  “…And Down Goes The Sky”

BPM:  130

Key Signature:  G

Time Signature:  4/4

Subject:  Existential Quandary / The Nature of Reality / The Existence of the Self
 

Synopsis:

A man wakes up and notices that his is wearing a torn shirt. For all his efforts he can’t remember how his shirt came to be in such a disheveled state, nor can he remember how he even came to exist in the first place. Burrowing deep into the recesses of his mind, the man tries to summon any memory what-so-ever, even to the point of reaching for memories from before his own birth.

Sitting in the shower he watches the falling water and ponders the nature of the experience. Perhaps this experience is just a dream, or perhaps this experience isn’t anything at all.

Heading out into the rain, the man hops the train and makes his way across town for reasons of no particular consequence to anyone, or himself. But as he sits starring out the window at the cityscape streaming by, he sees some graffiti on an ally wall and leaves the train to read it.

In a perfunctory and still dripping font, it reads, “If you’re not big, then maybe your small.”

Standing there dripping in the rain, man considers the words. He wonders if they might provide some insight into who he is or what he is experiencing. In a philosophical frenzy, one by one the man rules out his ‘self’ as being contingent upon either one of his body, his brain, or his personality. Ultimately he concludes that if there is in fact a self at all, it’s smaller that the shortest unit of length… a self far less than physical or theoretical observation. A self smaller than Planck Length.
(1.616199 × 10^-35 meters)
 

Contributors:

• Ben Wylie:  Composition / Lyrics / Production / Vocals
• Aaron Wylie:  Production / Vocals / Keys / Programming
• Malcolm Aiken:  Trumpet / Trombone / Flugelhorn
• Jason Nickel:  Bass
• Nathan Wylie:  Drums
• Anna Vandas:  Vocals
• Richard Dolmat:  Production / Engineering

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