| 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) |