No use in feeble escape. Nowhere to run exists. No matter how far you crawl, this plague is always there. The flesh transforms to boils. Open wounds that will not close. Maggots arrive to feed and hatch their putrid spawn.
The festering of sores.
Reduced to a shivering pile. Wretched lump of waste. Leaving a trail of filth as you slowly slither.
The festering of sores. You're nothing but a pile of rot.
Nothing is left to do. But to be devoured. The festering of sores eats you whole.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
