Слова:
Craft Terror Propaganda

We are messengers Of future times to die We will show you the way And you need to follow us This is the dawn of your race And the dusk of your enemies

Once you can see The sun rise from the earth Direction to the sky And once you can feel Rain fall down on your skin Once you have skin (in pain

Do you feel the foul stench in the air? Like corpses left to rot in the sun Nearly dead parasites trying desperately to survive It smells like humans