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?

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 grant 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
That 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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