[Verse 1] Hands kneading clay know the truth A tactile *Idea* beyond the reach of symbolic grounding Bending the clock hands that stretch out horizontally Plunging deep into a vertical well Fossils of memory spring to life—here and now [Chorus] A spinning ring, a constellation of stars Irreversible *Chronos* dwelling within a mud ball An explosion of the "here and now," performers at play Theater unleashes the depth of time We are reborn once more within the improvisation [Verse 2] A snail crawls from the pocket of a boy who is late Lightly deviating from the homogeneous daily routine Descartes’ *bon sens*—a rightly ordered sense Donning again the mask I gave up on that day The long-forgotten stage curtain suddenly rises [Bridge] Grains of contingency—*qualia*—slipping through the net of calculation The festival bonfire burns away the night of algorithms The raw form of life before it turns into words A rhythm pulsing deep within my body [Chorus] A spinning ring, a constellation of stars Irreversible *Chronos* dwelling within a mud ball An explosion of the "here and now," performers at play Theater unleashes the depth of time We are reborn once more within the improvisation [Outro] Hide the clock The stage does not end even when the curtain falls The time of eternal stars raining down into the margins Simply immersing myself, gazing at the departing shadow
