Shivers herald an upcoming possesion. The urges to create set us ablaze. Demonic art sacrificed to the night. A monument of malicious sonority. The most precions gift for the everlasting cycle.
Souls of infidel men. Is a fertile soul. Like dusky forest grow. On fallen leaves. We draw the essence of mortal weakness. Holyness - the worst gift of light.
Enter the path to the realm below. Where evil sleeps and darkness grows. For you don't know where I've been. And you don't know what I've seen. You can't feel what I felt.