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