Tekst:
8 Foot Sativa Poison Of Ages

the family tree to still your filth encrusted tongue with axe in hand and blade in head this shall be your undoing be still your poisoned tongue bite

there will be a time when there will be too much to fit so I will make room hammer in hand as blood and bone fall away like rain upon the deepest ocean

this is my promise to you the broken, who bleed silently, outlined in sickly red their masters, with glazed eyes and numb hands when skies fall, burning

diamond white versus charcoal black a thousand faceless souls worth less than one soulless face this is our daily standard and it makes me sick to my

heads buried within the clouds, sickening white rotting corpses at your feet maggot infested devouring greyed out dreams, forgotten devolving into this