A grotesque celebration of Old School Goregrind and Deathgrind perversion, Corpse eROTika marks the putrid debut of Morgue Dweller. The air grows thick with decay—fetid, clinging, inescapable. Death seeps through the cracks of reality, and with it, the foul stench of what should remain buried.
Its reek cannot be denied. Its image, never forgotten. A corpse is not just a remnant of life—it is a grim prophecy. For the necromancer, rot is a ritual. A temple built of bone. The morgue, a sacred altar to fleshless transcendence.
