The Architect

I was lost till I was found, headed northwest bound
Feet on the floor, head in a dashboard radio
Making Sunday afternoon look like a high class boon
I swear to God I'll move on when I'm ready

If this is where I lost and found my defense, my crown
I made a pilgrimage to hold everything steady
Give me fiction, give me truth, give me the same old blues
Give me something to hold onto already

If these are the words of the architect
Then I might stay a while
If these are the words that I might forsake
Then can I get a smile?
If these are the words of my epithet
Then I might stick around
This might be the place I was meant to be
When the architect comes down

People passing in the streets, making forests out of trees
Making miracles out of everyday incidents
If I could sleep, if I could stall, if I could scream, if I could crawl
I'd be the first one to make it all better

If I could articulate the song that I wanted to have sung
I'd be satisfied and this wouldn't be an issue
I'm sinking in, I'm gambling, I'm getting way too thin
I'm looking for someone to come down and rescue me

If these are the words of the architect
Then I might stay a while
If these are the words that I might forsake
Then can I get a smile?
If these are the words on the radio
Then I might stick around
This might be the place I was meant to be
When the architect comes down

If these are the words of the architect
Then I might stay a while
If these are the words that I might forsake
Then can I get a smile?
If these are the words on my epitaph
Then I might stick around
This might be the place I was meant to be
When the architect comes down



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