A mark of claws
To teach us. Speak to us
The language of the vultures.

Woven towers, they grew
As our maps became patterns
Of what always had been
Yet never came

Oh how we tried not to fall
And now fail to fall
Now try to fail. And fall

One will always build from the cinder we left
White walls arise from a trembling ground
We will not stay here in the reigns.
White walls arise from a trembling ground


Lyrics submitted by KingJelle

Machining song meanings
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