Вершы: Brodequin. Festival Of Death. Flow of Maggots.

Struck in the back of the head driven by an unquenchable
urge to kill blood flows over the shoulders multiple blows
inflicting mortal wounds left lifeless on the floor placed on
display others set aside filled with immense decay
sacrifices made to a lustful desire bones crushed
blood spilled feverishly oppening the skin unidentified
remains butchered and defiled fermenting flesh
hastens the strench of decay inserting allowing to
multiply the worms break out of skin