Beaten down, broken, and banished to the crypts below. Eyes adapting to perpetual darkness, isolation sharpening instincts. The only sustenance their fellow man. Form distorted through the ages.
Anthropophagus abominations, underground, clawing dirt, tunneling. Once deprived of nourishment, the last resort is to resurface.
Scavenging, in the dead of night. Emanating from their caverns, set to strike.
The ravenous scourge prepared to emerge. A swarm awaiting sundown.
The moon's luminescence calls forth an infestation that leaves graves desecrated. Seeking out the stench of sweet degradation, through pest-ridden trenches of the land.
The festering horde has come to engorge, craving foul intestines. The dead disentombed, rib-cages cracked, skulls getting smashed.
Bred in necrosis, their young incubated post-mortem. Their brood kept warm by fermentation.
Now it's our turn. To feast upon your dead. To spread our next of kin. To Spawn a flesh bound plague.
Now it's our turn. To violate the pure in essence. To feast upon your dead. To excavate what's held most sacred. To spread our next of kin. To impregnate your perished maidens. To spawn a flesh bound plague. Scavenging under the veil of night.
Now it's our turn. To violate the pure in essence. To feast upon your dead. To excavate what's held most sacred. To spread our next of kin. To impregnate your perished maidens. To spawn a flesh bound plague. Scavenging under the veil of night.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
