A drop trickles down rock that mimics our image
One day a stream or sea, now simply testing limits
Each crack and crevice showing our vintage
With times passage and our absence, creations diminish
Our defiances of gravity, our worlds of fantasy
Prisons of insanity, and temples of majesty
Built by who and who for?
Gods or more?
Mortar and brick let them laugh in the face
Or perhaps in their eyes give chase
Stilts to the heavens, reach down to the peasants
Never hinting it’s an artist's impression

What are we, what are we building up there?
I can’t see the top from down here
What are we, what are we building up there?
I can’t see the top from down here

Icons and illusions break & fall to rapids
Our lavish halls but crumblings walls as their ravaged
These foundations held as long as they could manage
A machine inevitably left famished
Echoes of voices and loose paper fills the air
In and out doors, you are what you wear
Glass floors, don’t look down, slump in desk chairs
Another high riser going nowhere
Tarmac unbridled under images of idols
Set alongside your own blood rival
Now all just yet another river bed
Banks like veins to sky as it bled

Perhaps a beast will step fourth from the wreckage
Like a sampling from spent kindling step into the passage
No thought of honor, wonder or perfection
Just survival & connection
How will the land decide its existence
WIll it understand the steel and stone brilliance
Do we have faith in any resilience
Playing its part in a cycles fulfilment
A trickle now a roar cuts a course like engraved
Testament to time and decay
Eying dungeons to steeples, bastions and streets paved
Will anything here break a wave?

What are we, what are we building up there?
I can’t see the top from down here
What are we, what are we building up there?
I can’t see the top from down here