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Lost in a foreign realm,
The stench of the rotting dead permeates everywhere you go,
Bodies float to the surface of the dark water,
Deadly sands try to bring you under the earth,
While the vines take hold of you,
And squeeze the life out,
Flesh torn by,
Thorns that want you to die,
Everything is out to get you,
Running through a maze of the land,
That was birthed by dying men,
Decaying corpses feed the starving plants,
The bloodied roots of the trees,
Dig their ways into the lifeless masses,
Consuming all of the sanguine fluid,
From a once living human being,
Now condemned to fall,
In the Swamplands,
Running through a maze of the land,
That was birthed by dying men,
Decaying corpses feed the starving plants,
Run away before the roots,
Start digging into you,
before you become,
Food for the earth to consume,
Food for the earth to consume,
Food for the earth to consume.