In time and motion, in lines and rows
In sacred figures, to-do list grows
Cello exclusion, in feudal choice
In complete absence of human growth
Feeding the death machine
Worshipping banality
Children of the obscene
Tell them that it’s all a game
An unperson of fear
We vermin of the tears
Castrated by events
I’m just an architect
With facts and figures, in serried graves
Accountancy’s care, paperwork grows
Playing for platforms, overheard throes
In railed stables, professional
Feeding the death machine
Worshipping banality
Children of the obscene
Tell them that it’s all a game
An unperson of fear
We vermin of the tears
Castrated by events
I’m just an architect
Feeding the death machine
Worshipping banality
Spreadsheets of the obscene
It’s just a fucking game
An unperson of fear (we are no one)
We vermin of the tears (and we cry)
Castrated by events (in the details, it makes sense)
I’m just an architect (we just do as we are told)
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