Worship at the altar of the pregnant spore.
Time has come and all will feel unholy whore.
Cant you see the catacombs have all run bare.
No escape, the drains are clogged with blood and hair.
THE CITIES BURN
Monolithic waves of hatred bury you
Nothing stops the bloodshed that will carry you.
Stop to smell the fetid, rotting corpse of you.
Try to look away but someone forces you.