Slc Punk Intro Montage

Phantasmagore
click is heard so common in our days of a lighter. Then the cigar burned paper. The smoke enters the lungs, irritating the throat gently. The man, wearing leather complete with mask, exhale the grayish substance that calms the nerves. His veins expand and blood flows easily through your body, while adrenaline unsinkable your senses. His eyes widen to the size of billiard balls and with a piercing scream, explode, becoming bloody stumps, leaving the bony hollows of his skull.
The other man, dressed in white robes before, now pure red dress and hangs from a pole, which was impaled. His arms, strained by his infinite agony, seemed to be trying to grab the hair and down the trunk, which was going through, coming out where her face used to be.
The loud noise of the screaming man being impaled Menelaus murderer's bones making him see that the end of man's life end with the torment he was carrying at the expense of a piece of glass.
His eyes could not see, but he knew that the purpose of man had come to an end. I knew that soon the blood of their own insides would flow along the ground as rain water and would become one of many waste without a proper death without a funeral, someone remember him.
Meanwhile the other man was sitting next to smoking a cigar boom, formerly called the bleeding eyes. No evidence of pain rose from where he sat, throwing the cigarette butt in a way that only a professional would defect and allowing the memory guide your steps back to that place where there was still a faint trace of daylight to which both despised.

Arcanis, Griffin.