[Medieval voices – wordless, distant, original modal chant] [Harpsichord enters beneath the voices] [Verse – female] I thought I wanted one impossible hour, leather beneath my hands. I thought if I touched what the fire couldn't take, I'd finally understand. [Verse – male] One hand hid it. [Female] One carried it. [Male] One opened the page to learn. [Female] One sold it. [Male] One saved it. [Together] One would have given it to the fire. [Instrumental transition – harpsichord motif taken up by cello and raw blues guitar] [Verse – female] Five hundred years have touched this spine. Not every hand was kind. Some came for knowledge. Some came for gold. Some came deciding who should be told. [Male] Who may read. [Female] Who may heal. [Male] Who may ask. [Together] Who gets to decide what knowledge is allowed to last? [Rhythm shifts gradually into crooked noir-cabaret] [Chorus – together] Hand to hand. Age to age. Keep the fire from the page. You don't own what survives you. You don't hold it because you can. Keep it safe. Learn what you may. Then give it to the next trustworthy hands. [Instrumental – old motif continuing beneath modern rhythm] [Verse – female, quieter] When I touch the spine at last, everything noisy falls away. [Male] Not possession. [Female] No. [Male] Not even for an hour. [Female] No. [Together] Custody. [Brief silence] [Female] Across the table someone watches. No one asks if we can take it now. [Male] That's no longer the question. [Female] The question is— [Together] what sort of people will we be now that it's ours to guard? [Final chorus – modern duet with distant medieval voices returning underneath] Hand to hand. Age to age. Keep the fire from the page. You don't own what survives you. You don't hold it because you can. Keep it safe. Learn what you may. Then give it to the next trustworthy hands. [Outro – voices and old motif only] [Female] My hands— [Male] for now. [Together] Then the next.
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