Butchered by buckshot, shredded by shrapnel. Up close and personal with my sawn of arsenal.
Mutilated at close range, shooting lead into your veins.
Spewing blood right out your mouth, pumping shells into your bowels.
Point blank hate obliterate, blend your teeth into your brains.
Recover from recoil, splattered in entrails. Double barrel homicide, took the shot between the eyes.
Puncture wounds of eradication, destroy your face in deformation.
Trigger happy decimation, putrid mess of annihalation.
Semi-auto butchered frenzy, close quarter combat frenzy.
Bodies drop from my single shot, finish them off with my bolt.
Over and under life force plunder, intestine spreading supernova.
Shattered bones burst at full choke, clear the chamber and reload.
Severe trauma to the face, rearranged with a 12 gauge.
supported by 8 fans who also own “Rearranged with a 12 Gauge”
Who doesn't know about Rogga and his phenomenal output of swedeath? It has to be acknowledged that he doesn't put out any bad songs and is capable to hold up the tension. Not only that, je eben manages to increase the intensity of his works. mourner