The Architect کے بول

The sheep are all alone, like disciples Waiting to be led into a shallow grave United in tragedy Their mouths gasp the pollution Inhaling the concept of a new tyrant Masses fan her campaign into flames Hell is not around the corner It's already here in me She paints the cicatrice beige To conceal her wretched design Flesh decides Imparting closure to all She paints The cicatrice beige Words won't fail as her elusive speech Reaches yet another pair of deaf ears Sentences bear no relevance But the mortal eyes witness a sight Too exquisite to watch as she speaks The Architect Inhaling the concept of a new tyrant Masses fan her campaign into flames Hell is not around the corner It's already here She paints The cicatrice beige