REPULSE. DISGUST. DESTROYER OF WORLDS. SPEED REVERSED. WE PERSONIFY THE PERVERSE. TIME SEEPS, painfully, SLO=W. NO NEED FOR REMISSION. AGONY.
DEATH KNELL, THE ECHO BELL. THRONE OF THE GODS, WE KNOW NO REASON TO NOD(our mortal brow to the knee of the destrucctaur). MOST HASTE TO OUR CONSUMPTION.
OUR EXISTENCE IS OURS TO SAVOUR. OUR APOLOGIES DEMINISH BEHIND OUR BEHAVIOUR. FLESH. CRUSH...AND NOW WE MUST REAP, SAVOUR OUR RUSH.
SLOW. BURN. YOUR TURN IS UPON...YOU. DRIVE YOURSELF. DOWN. THERE ARE NO REWARD(S).
ARACHNOTAUR readies itself for you, the underlings, to kneel to the low frequency unit that may bring(as unknown to you) the unknown pleasures of the slow burning bass rumble. T.C.O.D. is our our unbridled goal as un-hoed(sic) virgin soil is to a man who wields a rational sensibility.
Our promise to provide the six string vibration, resembling your your lowest mental ebb, is unrivalled and shall exist despite unholy reputations toward the untoward. Away from the astray and the beginning of the unforgiving. For we loom.
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