the architect stood at the base of the spire; the endless days she had spent building it—nearly draining her heart, soul, and mind. and yet, the spire was all that was, an empty husk, not even herself willing to inhabit it. did she fulfill the promise she made to herself? perhaps if she built it one floor higher, perhaps if she drained herself a few more months, could it be the glorious structure she had dreamed of?

what a pathetic imbecile. that was never how it worked to begin with.

here you find yourself, i think you've been here before

welcome back to ceaseless void, theres room for one more

as the moments passed, for once you enjoyed yourself

i knew that one day you'd be here again

always sought perfection, but caught in pride

through all the lies, unbroken promises still shine

always basking in the ceaseless, endless, empty praise

return to the void once more

i'll find it this time i'm sure

so i keep straining every day

and the euphoria fades away

but always more beneath i find

why don't i shelve this pain i've mined

and stop digging so deep

one day i'll stop making these promises i can't keep

conditioned to perfection yet so far she runs away

fleeing from the ceaseless void, and yet it draws her back to stay

unmatched deception, and brilliant gleam

oh how i wish that things were as they seem

they can't be perfect, yet they keep trying to be

falling back into the cycle, never learning anything

if perfection makes them happy, why are they so stressed and drowned

[[[[as if that was how it worked to begin with]]]]

yet i keep straining every day

and the euphoria fades away

but always more beneath i find

why don't i shelve this pain i've mined

and stop digging so deep

one day i'll stop making these promises

so i'll keep failing every day

never live up to what i say

tell the world that i'm just fine

while i burn behind these blinds

yet still digging so deep

one day i'll stop making these promises