The genuine one lies uncorrupted. Feeling forced to crack that survivor. Our instinct draws near, dwells inside with savagery Tempt it to the unknown. Now it's the prey. No caskets around, must act fast. Digging the hole, blood runs. Smell its fears. Smell its fears. Begin to suffer, solve life to death. Decomposing matter innwards the occult gates. To recreate the path to your pheretrum.