Song | Weltschmerz |
Artist | Anne Clark |
Album | Joined Up Writing/The Sitting Room |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
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 |