This cold floor we know too well. hearts poisoned with pride.
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black blood dotting our warmth.
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ending our contentment.
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this place is a contorted altar.
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I must seek strength from somwhere,
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for I've reduced myself to nothing. we've been here one thousand times.
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cold idle hands, floor-welcomed knees.
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hello autumn, I'd die for your companionship.
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doubtless I stand; laying my heart into the hands of eternity.
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revive me doctines!
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await the day, when all our blood will wash away.
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the world's balance I'm too familiar with;
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selfishness outweighs genorosity
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blindness produced by your own hands afront your face.
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lips bleeding with guilt.
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frightful little fiends.
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if these words mean nothing; than where is the conclusion?
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lyricism aside, Christ is the deduction
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-----------------
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Who Speaks Spanish, Colon Quesadilla
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| The Devil Wears Prada |
