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The Architects

Ornaments in silent darkness

The image of man

Now torn from its structureThe smell of need

The dwarfed soul of man

Attuned only to flesh

Suffering from frustrationAlien to our own spirits

We're naked even in death

The dawn is yet to come

To fill us with knowledgePulsating waves of color

Bleeding off into the black

A whisper of red screams through the night

The architects and the flesh

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