In here, it's always night.
The voices of those who've passed,
Scream and echo against the decried walls.
The remaining bodies lie motionless
Pools of Blood cover the floor.
Their legacy is written in entrails,
Smeared across the stone alters.
Forever is an illusion in the eyes of the Flesh,
Decomposing all that is,
All that was,
And all that will be.
Existence is a form of torture
Piercing the Omnipresence's sanctuary.
As mortals,
They were masochists,
Sadists,
Making livings through human sufferings.
Their true calling were awakened,
Here within these endless walls.
Unknowing of their destiny,
Carved in the Flesh of the fallen.
Slowly the move through the corridors,
Leaving stains as bait.
Even blind eyes can see,
There was something here, once.
