Weltschmerz

This is where silence runs its course

And sadness wipes its eyes upon us

We fall from a structure built on troubled minds

My world becomes iron and grows as cold as winter

Soldiers in uniforms of nudity march over open hearts

Sweetly and sickly scented by roses

And your world is crushing you like those flowers

Scripts written into your skin with the ink of thorns

Ashen faces sink into silence

All lonesome trends brush shoulders

All of last night's degradation

Builds foundations on us both