Project Pitchfork The Island
the sun reflects on the red salt water squiring bodies, death screams crunching backbones, blinking hooks laughing people again it's time for the slaughtering fiest what a joyful murderous day do you know what I mean? hooks ripping flesh drogging them to the shore with knives they try to reach the hearts blood pumping out of the wounds two hours until death finns hitting the water blinking hooks two hours until death
