Paroles de Pestilential Mists

From suppurating sores From bloated bodies From bubonic blisters The stench is slowly rising ! It's floating in the air The reek of decay and death As the infested bodies fester Exuding this rotten breath The air is warm and stale With premature maturation All medicines will fail You can't stop the suppuration Black Death, the pestilential mists The disease is rapidly spreading The Curse of god on the sinners The Plague won't ask for a cause