Ruin: Pour the fuel for the war machines; Grease your weapons raw An army of cloned splinters, a vast destructive claw To cleave down all the impotence that man has sought to fake This day, my proxy-brothers, an old man’s world we take Razor: These foundations are fragile, cannot be put to threat Don’t you dare, my brother, foil the plans we’ve set
Storyteller: And while the world kept turning, the architect arose Conductor of the brutal symphony that he composed The dawn upon a new age of a feral hateful scheme A throne that’s built from future graves and a crown of shattered dreams
Razor: Break communications, set the traps we need First we take the shoreline cities then, my lord, we puncture in I want to see their leaders begging as they bleed I want to tear their human hearts and flay their blotted skin Rapture: Don’t forget my brother, you ambitious little fiend This conflict’s resolution states that we will win
Storyteller: And while the world kept turning, the architect arose Conductor of the brutal symphony that he composed The dawn upon a new age of a feral hateful scheme A throne that’s built from future graves and a crown of shattered dreams
The Architect: Degenerating into the decadence of what I mustn’t be While the consequences of my decisions are deformed by these impious three The uncertainty that broke my inflamed bones Has now outgrown the boundaries of my private throne
Rapture: Why you seem so lost, lord? We’ve just begun We’ll thrive and cast a shadow over every rising sun Our divisions all stand ready to savor victory Let the green flame now engulf everything you see
Storyteller: And while the world kept turning, the architect arose Conductor of the brutal symphony that he composed The dawn upon a new age of a feral hateful scheme A throne that’s built from future graves and a crown of shattered dreams
And while I’m still breathing, the architect arose The conductor of the brutal symphony that he composed The Architect: (I’m still breathing; I’m the conductor, shattered dreams) The dawn upon a new age of somberness and rigor Storyteller: (He is still breathing; he’s the conductor; he is the architect)
The Architect: The dawn upon a new age of somberness and rigor A throne that’s build from wasted youth and my vacant, shattered dreams I’m still breathing.