Florence, the capital of evil scarred by a black Styx. Dark current, monstrous sludge riffs float, shouted despair over noise cadavers, morbid claustrophobia recited over a putrescent urban tribalism, ambient dark suffering.
Words whisper, scream of a violent evil, always close like our shadow, morbidly caressing, sweet, an intriguing friend.
"Evil does not have a capital, and if it does, it resides deep within ourselves. Because evil is needed, even evil is needed"
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