Bourne of Flies, behold the forthcoming
With the sabbath complete, thine child of waste
Release the horde from your wake
Rise from the crucifix,
With the will of wrath you shall suffer the path of the abyssal black
A fresh soul sentenced to death, condemned to wander the Infernos of the Damned
Infantile innocence stolen from the mind
Devoured by the abhorrence calling from within
You are the talisman
A bastard father underneath the wings, a soul sold for a passage to the Earth
The legion's flock into the heart of God
Pouring horror with its every wake
A chassis to bear the weight of a thousand
Forming from within the myiasis
Host, do you understand your purpose?
With your flesh given embodiment, there is passage to reality
It's with this we shall soil all that is holy
For you are the embodiment of rot and decay
"Bourne of Flies, behold the forthcoming..."
Born anew is the gateway awaited for millennia
The shackles lifted grants the fall of Anno Domini
Die for their sacred being
Life given to the legionary
Burn for their archetype
Life given to the legionary
The throne shall sit on top of bones and decay
There will be no place left for disease like you
Understand you are nothing different host
Merely a pawn underneath my wing
A stairwell of corpses shall stack to the gate for what you procreate
It is then, your bodies will suffocate in the sulfur
Relapsed to a drone of demonic intent
Nothing but Rot & Decay
Morsel for the throne
An everlasting stain
Rot & Decay
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