STONE HALLS EMIT THE STENCH OF DEATH. Miasma of rotten serenity envelops the soul. Wretched and cold, embody the hanging saviour. Crucifix of FLESH becomes one with stone. Arms bend like broken trees; gnarled and cold. A cemetery of biblical fetish stretches beyond the horizon in the pit called abyss.
This lyric was posted anonymously. Not yet confirmed by Book of Metal.
