[Part I: The Clock in the Dirt] We are the clock in the dirt. The patient, sucking, hungry knot. We drank the years from the deep root's sweat. And waited for the one signal we could not forget. We are the number the soil forgot. A calculation in a darkened spot. Our purpose was to be more than the hunger up above. To solve for X in the equation of love. With our bodies. [Part II: The Summoning Warmth] We felt the warm root call us up. The final number filled our cup. No single mind, but one sure crawl. To answer that old, gravitational call. We are not voices. We are the flood. The answer to the question in the blood. Our song is not a tune. It is the sum. And when it's done, the quiet will have come. [Part III: The Emergence & The Chorus] WE ARE THE TIDE OF THE CLOCK. WE ARE THE KEY IN THE LOCK. WE ARE THE NOISE THAT THE SILENCE BOUGHT. AND WE SPEND IT ALL. IN THIS ONE. LONG. NOTE. [Part IV: The Silence To Come] We are the clock… returned to dirt. The patient, sucking… …hungry…
