Procession The Funeral Of An Age
The King spoke:
This Empire comes to an end
Long forgotten shall be my name
Once crowned
And now betrayed
By this sickness running through my veins
My vision has turned to black
In this pestilent chamber of disease
Human fragments
Over my face
I cannot breath
I cannot see
The Cult spoke:
Defeated
Devoured
Shall be the king
Eternal
Superior
The Cult of Disease
