Our souls are dyed to match the dusk
And steeped in solemn, frigid rain.
We live adorned with shades of death
And sanctify what is profane.
The only things that glimmer here
Pierce through the skin and hang in chains.
Is it any wonder we all have
A curious love affair with pain?
Jun 1, 2025
Jun 1, 2025 at 10:54 PM UTC
Our souls are dyed to match the dusk
And steeped in solemn, frigid rain.
We live adorned with shades of death
And sanctify what is profane.
The only things that glimmer here
Pierce through the skin and hang in chains.
Is it any wonder we all have
A curious love affair with pain?