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 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 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?