This World is Made of Paper... - Scott Allen, Thunderbirds Are Now!, Howard Chang

Should we pay the toll

For every black hole?

Should we pay a fee

Incessantly, obsessively?

Should we pay to talk

As we’re eating chalk?

But they can’t make us pay,

No not today, no not this way.

This world is made of paper.

If we don’t move they’ll draw us smaller and smaller.

This world is made of paper.

If we don’t move they’ll draw us smaller and smaller.

This world is made of paper.

If we don’t move they’ll draw us smaller and smaller.

This world is made of paper.

If we don’t move they’ll draw us smaller and smaller.

Should we pay them back

For every heart attack?

Or should we wait and see

depressingly, in a minor key?

Should we pay up front?

Should we be so blunt?

I bet our check will bounce

And drop in weight, with every ounce.

This world is made of paper.

If we don’t move they’ll draw us smaller and smaller.

This world is made of paper.

If we don’t move they’ll draw us smaller and smaller.

This world is made of paper.

If we don’t move they’ll draw us smaller and smaller.

This world is made of paper.

If we don’t move they’ll draw us smaller and smaller.