---

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.