The wind cast a ruin upon my soul.
The night is dying, yet we cursed the dawn, each mourning, upon a festering grave.
The moonlight has no shine through the doom.
The burning corpse of god shall keep us warm in the doom of howling winds
For we are a race from beyond the wanderers of night.
Exit
Sacrifice
Sigils Made of Flesh and Trees
Exit
Apparitional Void of Failure
Pyramid of Skulls
Intro
Unblessed Be
Entrance into Nothingness
Beauty is Only Razor Deep
The Light of Those Who Failed
Telepáticos cujos
Bleak Necrotic Paleness
The Next Plane of Existence
Horizon Of Plastic Caskets
Masquerade Of Incisions
Inner Sanctum Surveillance
Untitled
Reflecting hateful energy
May Your Void Become As Deep As My Hate