A Catastrophe of Epic Proportions - Through The Eyes Of The Dead

Followers led to rot among their waste

A putrid path of torment and human debris

Infection of the soul

No purity

Tearing apart from the inside out

Sickness spreading further from the host

Spiraling out of control

As the 11th hour rears its ugly head

We embrace death as the only way

Consumed with fear and no apparent cure

Condemned as humanity’s demise

Incinerated to remove the plague

Thrown to the fires screaming

Burning half alive

We are the disease

We are the virus

There is no cure

Only extinction

Insanity only a step away

The sun begins to fade

This foreseen image of madness and the sheer panic floods the streets

We are the disease

We are the virus

There is no cure

Only extinction

Sickness spreading further from the host

Spiraling out of control

We are the disease

We are the virus

There is no cure

Only extinction