Le Temps Qui Reste

Lyrics

[Intro]
(a clock ticking — but slower than a real clock, as if time is tired of keeping time)
(cello enters — Chronos's voice before his voice)
(piano enters — Sisukiro's, answering)

[Verse 1 — Sisukiro]
(voice and piano, direct, a question being placed on a table)
I've been meaning to ask you
Since the morning when you sat down uninvited
And ordered nothing
And drank it slowly

What is time for?

Not what time does — I know what time does
Time does the grinding and the sanding
And the quiet relocation of the furniture
I've seen your work

But what is it for?
The insular cortex tracks the seconds
The striatum beats its frequency
But neither of them has filed a purpose statement
And I've checked

[Verse 2 — Chronos]
(his voice — gravelly, the slowest delivery on the album, distorted bass underneath)
You're asking the river
What water is for
And the river would like to remind you
That it was here before the question
And will be here after the question
Has been composted by the answer
And the answer has been composted by the next question
And the next question
Is also: what is time for

(beat)

Time is not for anything
Time is the for
Time is the preposition
Not the noun
You keep looking for the destination
And I keep telling you
I'm the road

[Pre-Chorus — Both]
(cello and piano together, the tension tender)
And the afternoon is getting longer
Or shorter — I can't tell
And the insular cortex
Has stopped keeping score
Because the score was never the point
The point was the keeping

[Chorus — Both]
(building — strings, muted trumpet, the weight and the light in conversation)
Le temps qui reste, le temps qui reste
The time that remains when the purpose is gone
Le temps qui reste, le temps qui reste
The road that continues after the destination's done
She says meaning — he says distance
She says why — he says how long
And the café table between them
Is the only thing
They've ever agreed on

[Verse 3 — Trading]
(rapid, intimate, the conversation heating up)
(Sisukiro:) If time has no purpose then the sigh has no purpose
(Chronos:) The sigh has function — function isn't purpose
(Sisukiro:) If function isn't purpose then the baker has no purpose
(Chronos:) The baker has a morning — a morning isn't purpose
(Sisukiro:) Then what do you call the bread?
(Chronos:) I call it temporary
(Sisukiro:) The bread is warm
(Chronos:) The bread is cooling
(Sisukiro:) The bread is here
(Chronos:) ...yes
The bread is here

(long pause — just the clock, slower than ever)

(Chronos, quieter:)
And the here is the part I can't explain
The here is the part that isn't mine
The here belongs to you
And your sister
And the café
And the bread
And I'm just the road it's all sitting on
And the road doesn't know
Why the picnic chose this spot
But the road is
If I'm being honest
Grateful for the crumbs

[Chorus — Both]
(full, the bittersweet at its most tender)
Le temps qui reste, le temps qui reste
The time that remains when the purpose is gone
Le temps qui reste, le temps qui reste
The road that continues after the destination's done
She says meaning — he says distance
She says why — he says how long
And the café table between them
Is the only thing
They've ever agreed on

[Bridge — Both]
(everything drops to just voices — no instruments, two people talking)
(Sisukiro:) Do you get tired?
(Chronos:) That's like asking the floor if it gets tired of being stood on
(Sisukiro:) Does the floor get tired?
(Chronos:) ...yes
(Sisukiro:) Then rest
(Chronos:) I can't — resting is what happens inside time
I can't rest inside myself
That's like asking a bottle to pour itself a drink

(pause)

(Sisukiro:) Then I'll sit with you
While you can't rest
And that won't fix anything
But it will mean
That the road
For one afternoon
Had company

(Chronos, barely audible:)
That's the closest thing to purpose
Anyone has ever offered me

(piano and cello — together, for the first time playing the same note)

[Outro]
(the clock ticking returns — but now it sounds less tired, or maybe just less alone)
Le temps qui reste
(both, softly)
The bread is here
The bread is cooling
The bread is here
(the clock fades)
(the cello sustains — one note, warm, holding)
(the piano answers — one note, warm, holding)
(they hold together — then release)