Under the darkness of an unborn sun her curses echo. Thought to be of nightmares, her form is that of smoke. Whispering in and out of our dreams.
She's found us through the darkest gate. The figure lurking beyond your gaze. The sensation of a wandering phantom. The sacrificial dagger thrust Wander not towards the screams. An evil only Satan can fathom.
Walking neath the stars. A trail of blood at her feet. Unseen by eyes in this realm. A stench of waste ‘round this gate. A passage to the void.
The absence of light weighs down upon you. The darkness itself carries a demonic touch. It is not until true terror sets in that you hear her incantation
“Arise. My son. With the forest you will grow. With blood. With bone. With this sacrifice you’ll be whole.”
Mist that smells of rotten flesh carries a curse throughout the skies. The scent fuses with your memory and rots your mind.
Crawling under her spell. Your movement hindered by rot. Lie down and join the worms. A trail of blood at her feet. Unseen by eyes in this realm. A stench of waste around this gate. A passage to the void.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
