To embers. To ash. To dust. The rotting scab from the wound which remains, in itself, a wound.
Never fully healing. No scar. Only flesh. Ripe. Putrid. Constant.
A reminder of lost time. Wasted days. The parasite which mocks, which spits in my face, is eternal.
No amount of pain can ever fill the void.
Track Name: Pernicious
The fresh fruit. Taste it. Juice runs down the chin. Down the neck. Down the chest. Dripping off of engorged flesh. Slowly pooling at feet. Sinking. Drowning. Deep. Suffocating in the sea of the damned. Lungs fill with fluid. The inevitable calm before darkness. I am.
Track Name: Golgotha
The tomb of countless. All encompassing. Eternal. World Tomb. Never ending.
Meat to rot.
Lie down. Closed eyes. The bed is warm. It is home. Familiar. Safe. Closed eyes.