A cup is cooling on the table. Someone lived here once. Perhaps it was me. Perhaps that's what memory wants. Godot was here tomorrow, Yesterday told me so. I borrowed all my yesterdays To give tomorrow somewhere to go. I gave the silence meaning, I gave the dark a name. The animal kept breathing, And I called it a game. Oh, Godot... Where have you been? I've never seen you coming. I've always seen you leave. A child is smiling in a frame, He has my eyes, he has my name. I say he's me; the years disagree, A moving body stitching history. One scent can resurrect a room, One note can make the dead years bloom. But every time I call them back, The brain rewrites the faded track. Memory isn't marble, It's weather through the skin. I wake inside a story My nervous system spins. Godot was here tomorrow, Yesterday told me so. I built a past to hold me And a future I could know. I gave the hours meaning, I gave the silence a name. The animal kept breathing, And I called it a game. We built a thousand sacred doors Above a creature crawling on all fours. We passed our hunger down the line And called reproduction a design. A kiss becomes eternity, A fear becomes philosophy. We make a future, make a past, And call the stitching something meant to last. We write our names against the night, Then call the writing proof of light. And when the writing disappears, We manufacture gods to hold the years. We didn't find a reason. We invented what it meant. Then built an entire universe To justify the rent. Godot was here tomorrow! Yesterday told me so! We invented all the questions! We invented every why! And called our fear of ending A magnificent desire to survive! Oh, Godot! Where have you been? I've never seen you coming! I've always seen you leave! Memory? A reconstruction. Hope? A rehearsal. Meaning? An invention. Religion? Survival. Philosophy? Survival. Love? Survival. And nihilism? Oh, yes... Even nihilism. I watch the gears turning. Then I understand... The eye that watches is another gear. Even this song. The machine explaining why it writes songs. Biology congratulating itself on discovering biology. [Pause] How fucking elegant. The child I was has disappeared, The old man lives in all I fear. Between them stands a shifting thing That calls itself a human being. I know that knowing sets no one free, The cells keep voting yes for me. And so I sit beneath the tree, Creating one more memory. No hidden truth. No sacred art. Just blood circulating Through a temporary heart. GODOT WAS HERE TOMORROW! AND YESTERDAY SWORE HE CAME! WE INVENTED THE APPOINTMENT! THEN FORGOT WHO GAVE IT A NAME! NO ONE IS LATE! NO ONE WILL COME! THE CLOCK GOES ON! THE BLOOD GOES ON! I SEE THE TRICK! THE TRICK SEES ME! AND BOTH ARE PART OF THE MACHINERY! GODOT! GODOT! WE INVENTED GODOT! AND THEN... WE REMEMBERED HIM. Nothing returns. Not as it was. Nothing remains. Not as we wish. The coffee's cold. The clock still works. And apparently... I've written another song. Not because it matters. Because the body hasn't finished being alive. And the mind... The mind needs something to do. Perhaps tomorrow I'll invent another reason. [Whisper] Godot was here tomorrow. Of course he was.
