We are beggars. We are so fucking weak. And once upon a time, we had the world at our feet. Well, we’re all dying to meet our maker, but all our Gods have abandoned us. This is the great esoteric depression. We sold our souls but couldn’t buy salvation. We are all the shades of misery. The reigning champions of tragedy.They use their faith as a weapon, they count our sins by the seven. Blackwater at the gates of heaven. All hail the corporatocracy. The word of God written in binary. All hail our apostasy, the dying notes in an unholy symphony. I found God clutching a razor blade. He said “Look at the fucking mess they’ve made. They’d trade their hearts if they were made of gold, but they’re as worthless as the souls they sold”.
In November 2018, Architects stared grief in the face on the remarkable album Holy Hell: a stark picture of the darkness and despair that …