Rosaline
this place is a battlefield
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This place is a battlefield and all of your heads are landmines*
Theyâre landmines
If you look up youâll see heaven bleeds light
We wake to the dead on the dawn of survival
The circuits infinite, the dawn it too bright
An empire that died is on the verge of revival
A boundary, I canât define
Iâm finding out, that Iâm fine
Engraved in chemical signs
Iâm finding out what to say
Wipe your hands clean, let her entrails bleed
This plot is thickening like concrete in my veins
It wonât erase, my smile is going to burst into flames