Welcome, friends to feast upon the mighty bowels of the dead - the late In putrid stench our supper is served - rejoice and rejuvenate. Eat the sins - the rotten flesh. Devour what's left behind. Erected is our temple grand on plagued ground in your mind.
Far from sunlight and deep within the womb of mother earth. The moldy tombs. The dark, damp, rooms where we, deceased, are given birth.
We praise the sick - the king of death. We salute the lord of germs.