Architects Songtext
von Via Coma

Father was a friend
He said, "Son, you will be safe
If you know the devil′s hands are yours
Just as they are mine
You are Jesus of your own disease
That's ironic ′cause it's true"
He took my hands and told me
"Son, this world is yours"

The architect is wondering all by
His various constituents without a cause
Inside your book (Now you know)
I've grown methodically judging yours (We′re all that matters)
The beauty (The one you′ve always seen)
Of my hands and eyes (Is in its chains and doubt)


We're such wicked fiends
We are the monsters
And pathetic beings
We are the saviors

Well, maybe we are flawed
Fallen into disrepair
Inherently we are
The architect′s exquisite creation
A faulty mess of diagrams and parchment

We're such wicked fiends
We are the monsters
And pathetic beings
We are the saviors

Father was a friend
He said, "God, you will be safe"
Well, I just can′t shake these devil's hands
Are yours and mine to keep
Jesus of our own disease
It′s ironic, but it's true
If we create this world, my dear