Welcome to the love chamber!
The room in sweltering with the heat of passion. Musk and lust consume your nostrils. Love is undeniably in the air and consumes you to your core. You swiftly become overwhelmed by the amount of emotion presented before you. Red rose petals decorate the ground, some jumping and dancing into the air with a gentle breeze. A piano begins to reverberates through the room, a rasp voice of the undead begins to echo those classic lines of Elton John.
"I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mint, my eyeball fell out again and I'm wearing an eyepatch." Zombie sings to the crowd, awaiting his Valentine to show up.
Bleached teeth and mismatching skin tones, Zombie had clearly been to the body shop recently to put on his best appearance. The scent of his decaying flesh masked in a bath of cleaning products. His exuberant smile reeked of meal worm and maggots with a hint of sanitary products.
As the song whisks away into it's outro, Zombie climbs to his feet and begins walking towards a heart shaped bed spinning in place covered in red silk sheets and pillows made from the hide of freshly clubbed baby seals stained red with the blood of their mothers who died trying to protect them.
Something is definitely wrong, perhaps you should try to leave? As you turn, the mood cuts to a halt, and the tempo swiftly changes. Wrought iron doors collapse in your path and the music suddenly changes.
That looming feeling of trouble weighs heavily in your mind, distraught with confusion ensnared in a dilemma of entrapment. Metal shackles were dangling from the walls everywhere. Clanking cast iron chains dangled from the ceiling, you can't help but dwell on your imminent demise.
That rasp undead voice travels through the room, unrelenting and panging in your ears, "Were you going somewhere? The show is only just beginning. Set aside your moral values and enjoy the decadence. Lose yourself in the moment, and celebrate. Love cannot be shackled, but our bodies can."
The room in sweltering with the heat of passion. Musk and lust consume your nostrils. Love is undeniably in the air and consumes you to your core. You swiftly become overwhelmed by the amount of emotion presented before you. Red rose petals decorate the ground, some jumping and dancing into the air with a gentle breeze. A piano begins to reverberates through the room, a rasp voice of the undead begins to echo those classic lines of Elton John.
"I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mint, my eyeball fell out again and I'm wearing an eyepatch." Zombie sings to the crowd, awaiting his Valentine to show up.
Bleached teeth and mismatching skin tones, Zombie had clearly been to the body shop recently to put on his best appearance. The scent of his decaying flesh masked in a bath of cleaning products. His exuberant smile reeked of meal worm and maggots with a hint of sanitary products.
As the song whisks away into it's outro, Zombie climbs to his feet and begins walking towards a heart shaped bed spinning in place covered in red silk sheets and pillows made from the hide of freshly clubbed baby seals stained red with the blood of their mothers who died trying to protect them.
Something is definitely wrong, perhaps you should try to leave? As you turn, the mood cuts to a halt, and the tempo swiftly changes. Wrought iron doors collapse in your path and the music suddenly changes.
That looming feeling of trouble weighs heavily in your mind, distraught with confusion ensnared in a dilemma of entrapment. Metal shackles were dangling from the walls everywhere. Clanking cast iron chains dangled from the ceiling, you can't help but dwell on your imminent demise.
That rasp undead voice travels through the room, unrelenting and panging in your ears, "Were you going somewhere? The show is only just beginning. Set aside your moral values and enjoy the decadence. Lose yourself in the moment, and celebrate. Love cannot be shackled, but our bodies can."
wease:
