This is the scent of blood—

Cold steel feeling stone.

This is the time we run

Fast, slow, over we roam.

We run and bleed

On the flowers of gold.

We falter and die

On this ground of deathly hold.

Pierce your heart,

Plague your thoughts—

You’ll never escape

What your soul haunts.

Let the rain replace your tears.

Crack the glass of youthful fears.

Nothing matters anymore

When your heart is at war.