It was a sick, decaying place. Its presence in the town was an embarrassment; its offered shelter, a cynical facade. A place where no one should go. Yet they always came, drawn like human moths, attracted not by some external source of light but by their own inner darkness. And once present, they Burrowed.
I wish I had burned that place to the ground. What a marvelous album this is, to evoke such dark memories. The three-headed monster has struck again.