Even something
as small as an apple
It's simple and
somehow complex
Sweet and divine,
the perfect design
Can I speak to the architect?
And there's a canyon
that cuts through the desert
Did it get there
because of a flood?
Was it devised,
or were you surprised
When you saw how grand it was?
Was it thought out at all,
or just paint on a wall?
Is there anything
that you regret?
I don't understand,
are there blueprints or plans?
Can I speak to the architect?
Sometimes I look in the mirror
And wish I could make a request
Could I pray it away?
Am I shapeable clay
Or is this as good as it gets?
One day, you're on top
of the mountain
So high that you'll
never come down
Then the wind at your back
carries ember and ash
Then it burns your
whole house to the ground
Is it thought out at all,
or just paint on a wall?
Is there anything
that you regret?
I don't understand,
are there blueprints or plans?
Can I speak to the architect?
I thought that I was too broken
And maybe too hard to love
I was in a weird place,
then I saw the right face
And the stars and
the planets lined up
Does it happen by chance?
Is it all happenstance?
Do we have any say
in this mess?
Is too late to make
some more space?
Can I speak to the architect?
This life that we make,
is it random or fate?
Can I speak to the architect?
Is there an architect?
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