Gross Reality Dirt Filled Skulls

Can you hear the thunder pound as long dead,
Rising from the ground to regain life again.
Patiently they waited,
With dirt filled skulls which drive their thoughts insane to kill.
Can you feel the sorrow swell from decades,
Buried underneath they hear our feet above.
Dwelling on their deaths,
They envy life above and now they rise to take it back again.
Overshadowed lightning caress the dead.
Corpse appears still hung in his noose.
Manifesting screams that tell pure horror.
Unholy footsteps singe the roots.
Chronic waves, demon slaves, resurrecting from the graves.
Hunting down the priest in time to make him burn the cross away.
Blackened time, acient rhyme, conjouring the horror spawn.
Running for the chapel door but even though it's much too late.
Stalking prey, menacing, hiding several rows away.
Dragging out the priest, the chapel burning in a reddish flame.
One in grey, hung today, sudden evil reckoning.
Dangling the feet, they couldn't wait to kick the chair away.
Joining with the living drinking from veins.
Dying from their thirst they feed on death's distain.
Piercing through the hated,
Their rotting teeth are sharpened on the bones below.
Suddenly they stand, lead by their dirt filled skulls.
Staring through the eyes possessed in early grey.
The dead they gather and hunt down their game
Forced out their possessed in early grey.
Internal organs bleeding from the stump,
They vomit your head.
Held from view their prolonged children's fate.
Now exposed their life lies in the cold, stiff, undead hands.
Yes I know what lies beyond these walls,
Decapitated gore and odors strong.

[@grossreality4704]

Thrash as fuck!