The Secret Society

The Architecture Of Melancholy

The Secret Society


From the primal heartbeat
Until the last shovel of dirt
All those moments will be lost in time
Like dust in the wind

Tears of lament upon the ossuary
Ivory towers shrines of misery
A sanctuary

And there lies the religious and emotional elements
Inherent in these monstrosities

And I gaze at the skyline slowly turning red
As I watch the sun die in solitude

The future is here
Concrete
But will disappear
Before our very eyes

Fragile structures
Crumbling
Collapsing new buildings
Houses made of lies

And there lies the religious and emotional elements
Inherent in these monstrosities

And I gaze at the skyline slowly turning red
As I watch the sun die in solitude