As gas hits the human bone, straight through a ruptured core, internal departure becomes it抯 goal. Day one has already begun. Rotting flesh strewn around the crimson soil, vultures picking at the skulls, left from centuries ago. Structured from sin and hate it tastes your fear from it抯 needs. Internal departure, feel the brewing hate from the Son of Sin. It peels away at the skin, the heat stuck in the throats of the saved, the worst is yet to come. Sands of the dead, bones of the wicked whirl in front the temple. Red eyes glare into the rear of their souls, clambering for what was originally theirs. Inhaling human essence, gaining momentum for the hellfire that promises to burn the fucking weak. Sands of the dead, bones of the wicked whirl in front the temple. As gas hits the human bone, straight through a ruptured core. Here they are on the desolate earth, staring into the face of darkness. Internal departure, the end is nigh, with hellfire and brimstone creating a new throne. Structured from bone and sand from ash, eradicate the memories of the past. Structured from sin and hate it tastes your fear from it's needs. Internal departure, feel the brewing hate from the Son of Sin. It peels away at the skin, the heat stuck in the throats of the saved, the worst is yet to come. As gas hits the human bone straight through a ruptured core. Here they are on the desolate earth, staring into the face of darkness. Emerging from the bursted wombs. Applying pressure to the roots of commendable saviours as the battle has only begun, in the eyes of the saviours they've already won, emerging from the bursted wombs these demons demand certain doom. As gas hits the human bone, straight through a ruptured core. Here they are on the desolate earth, staring into the face of darkness.