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 By 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