Tekster: Suffocation. Prelude To Repulsion.

Pressure on the inner walls of my brain grows heavier. I must
alleviate the pain I feel, for soon many will die as they come
before me with effortless attempts. The search for divine power
beckons me and the only way to achieve is to destroy. Victims of a
torn society lay in waste, as I pick through the bloody carcasses.
Dead bodies just seem to fall before me.

Saving the most edible morsels, the weak ones scatter. With bloody
weapon in hand, I tear through the limbs. Cries of anguish filter
through the land, echoing in the valley. Many have tried to come
before me with effortless attempts. I sift my way through the fields
of dead bodies, stopping to take a trophy or two.

The fields run deep and far, for I have killed many and I must
travel far to reach my destination.

My final resting place, where I will be reborn. For now, the air is
still, smell of dead bodies is ever so prevalent. I am the last and
here I shall remain. The pain I have once felt is lifted from my
being. Villages of useless waste, a race witch does not deserve to
live. I reek havoc amongst the children from a present with no
future,

For I am the strong and those who defy me lay in waste. The days of
travel are long and the stench of how many I have killed lingers on.

I am tired and need rest, but the forces pulls me to my
destination.