Every gear is structured to serve a purpose, with exactness
Every turn of the stile is timed for a reason, and perfection
Angels are beings, composed with power, but are servants
Demons are the remnants of those angels fell from purpose
A gear must never question the reason, for its being made
Each Angel must serve how it was made, not question that
Every soldier sent to war, comes from being given free will
But must answer their masters and do what they're ordered
I wait for the day when we are made only of spirit and soul
And know our maker, know how we failed, in our purpose
Because whatever is done, there was never a flaw in design
Only in the deviations from the schedule or a flaw in ore
The design is perfect, and meant to create a response
That leads the product to know a reason for being
