Who Speaks Spanish, Colon Quesadilla

This cold floor we know too well. hearts poisoned with pride.

Black blood dotting our warmth.

Ending our contentment.

This place is a contorted altar.

I must seek strength from somwhere,

For I've reduced myself to nothing.

We've been here one thousand times.

Cold idle hands, floor-welcomed knees.

Hello autumn, I need not your companionship.

Doubtless I stand; laying my heart into the hands of eternity.

Revive me doctines!

Await the day, when all our blood will wash away.

The world's balance I'm too familiar with;

Selfishness outweighs genorosity

Blindness produced by your own hands afront your face.

Lips bleeding with guilt.

Frightful little fiends.

If these words mean nothing; than where is the conclusion?

Lyricism aside, Christ is the deduction