Rust and iron 

Rust and iron 
Blood and bone

Oh to what a heart filled with so much scorn

Withdrawn and forlorn 

Constantly torn with a multitude of fears to be a symbol of perfection and positivity yet within lies cold and undesirable reality. 

Oh to what profanity entwined with insanity to fulfill the demands of quintessential vanity.

A golden age do we reside for all to take pleasure and pride whilst immersed in a river of denial 

Through all we must maintain that smile

Louder the sounds grow yet acknowledgement is in exile 

With a deafening silence echoing in a lingering conflict, hard and cold to predict. 

Rust and iron
Blood and bone

To slumber for a thousand years 

Without care or fears

With nowhere to turn 

And no one to shoulder the burden
Rust and iron

Cinders and ashes

Rest now and wipe the tears from our lashes

Coldness reigns in an icy parade of disinterested commands, serving solely to fulfill our demands. 

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