[Intro] Before the clock had hands, before the room had length, A breath crossed the boundary and matter learned its name. [Verse 1] I am not a capsule with a calendar engine, not a silver door with a coordinate dimension, I am dust with a doorway, rib cage with a hinge, where the unseen leans close and the visible begins. No map in my marrow, no gears in my skin, just a borrowed little body letting outside in, what cannot be measured steps into the measurable frame, and a face in the mirror gets commissioned with a name. I count seven days, but I carry something older, finite hands holding a fire that never needed shoulders, my pulse keeps time while the timeless moves through, I am not where heaven goes—I am where heaven makes contact with you. [Pre-Chorus] Every choice is a threshold, every word can become flesh, what was hidden finds a window, what was distant enters breath. [Chorus] Time Machine, not a road through yesterday, Time Machine, making room for the far away, Time Machine, where the unseen touches skin, God beyond the boundaries entering the world within. Time Machine, I am dust and I am door, Time Machine, carrying more than I was made for, not escape from the hour, not a flight from what has been, but the invisible arriving where the visible begins. [Verse 2] I move in a body, but the body is a sentence, with a start and a stop and a limited attendance, still a word from beyond can inhabit the breath, turn a private little motion into life over death. Look—mercy in a hand, truth under a tongue, justice in a choice before the verdict is sung, water on a forehead, bread broken in a room, ordinary matter made radiant by what it can assume. The kingdom is not hiding in a far-off location, it presses through people into public creation, we are living apertures, not owners of the flame, receiving what is holy, releasing it as change. [Turntable Interlude] Time—time—time— not back, not forward—through. Ma-ma-matter, breath, body, breakthrough. Seen—unseen—seen—unseen— enter, encounter, become. [Bridge] If I forgive, something invisible crosses over. If I serve, something eternal bends closer. If I love when the wound says run, a hidden kingdom touches someone. If I speak what is true with a trembling mouth, if I feed the poor and I turn from my pride, then the outside is not outside anymore— it is moving through me into the side of time. [Chorus] Time Machine, not a road through yesterday, Time Machine, making room for the far away, Time Machine, where the unseen touches skin, God beyond the boundaries entering the world within. Time Machine, I am dust and I am door, Time Machine, carrying more than I was made for, not escape from the hour, not a flight from what has been, but the invisible arriving where the visible begins. [Outro] I am not a machine that travels through time. I am a life where the timeless enters time. I am not a machine that travels through time. I am a life where the timeless enters time. [Instrumental Break] [Final Refrain] The unseen touches skin. The hidden enters in. The eternal takes a breath. The visible answers back. Time Machine.
