Who Speaks Spanish, Colon Quesadilla

This cold floor we know too well Hearts poisoned with pride Black blood dotting our warmth Ending our contentment This place is a contorted altar I must seek strength from somewhere For I've reduced myself to nothing We've been here one thousand times Cold idle hands, floor-welcomed knees Hello Autumn, I need not your companionship Doubtless I stand Laying my heart into the hands of eternity Revive me doctrines! Await the day, when all our blood will wash away The world's balance I'm too familiar with Selfishness outweighs generosity Lips bleeding with guilt Frightful little fiends If these words mean nothing Then where is the conclusion? Lyricism aside, Christ is the deduction