through a smoke-filled haze, a child approaches a door and
enters a room created by the sonic bombardment of
apocalyptic proportions. he sees an old man with `napalm
death' inscribed on his chest in a reclining chair. as he
gets closer to the body, he observes four horsemen slowly
don a corroded crown of thorns around his head. he sulks in
his chair and reacts grimly as they peel back his flesh...
our flesh... god's flesh. out pours a demonic storm at a
catastrophic magnitude. cold, desolate rhythms, ripping
guitar and bass lines, blood-curdling lyrics and bleak
reminders of a world gone bad. the child turns in disbelief
as the man's body deflates and his soul rises. he runs out
of the room, but turns around once more to pay his
respects. he views two men in shrou More...
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