WORDED.ART

Nothing’s perfect
nothing ever is
With every plan there’s always
Something left to chance
We’re not all knowing
nor do we want to be
We need surprises in our lives

There is no purpose
There is no destiny
Life’s not forged
By the hammers of the gods
Existence shapes
Through the mistakes we make
And the few things that we get right

I am the architect
Composer of creation
All my hopes, my dreams, my fears
Become reality
Life is not as I’d design
I’m not the creator
I am flawed as are we all
As we live, stumble and fall

We design
what we want to be
Then live by the choice
Of what feels right
There are mistakes
And there are accidents
Nothing ever turns out
Like we had in mind

We are the pain, the hate, and suffering
We are the love, the joy, and happiness
We stack the dominos to fall
We are the product of us all

The Architect – Track two of the album “Loss” by Dissector