Soul Rot کے بول

The scars of time, Form not a tortured soul, But the purulence, of which the spirit holds… Vessel of sin, holds within, Filth of this world, Putrefy, purity defied. Full of waste, Sewn inside Enemies, not forgotten, Leave our soul to rot… Your body bears Disfigurement, Projections of your soul Your mind cannot commit… Spew the bile, Onto those, the subjects of your hate The poison that pervades The blade that does defile The fermenting hate, That boils inside Expel at once, Lest your body seep and die… A carcass, A figment of a man Decrepit and old, Awaiting the final bell… Rise… and feel the call of agony. Fall… and fill a restless grave. Feed, on countless lives, eternity Regurgitate, the sickness that dwells within.