It's really cool and good when cover arts describe perfectly what music is going to happen when you listen to what plays beneath.
So you're in the forest of crimson skies okay, and the trees are so tall and uniform and lifeless and intimidating and you can't see the tops of them no matter how hard you try but be careful you don't trip over any of those protruding roots cause there are very bad things down among the rocks. Listen carefully to the sounds in the distance - rumours say a disgraced god has been Dethroned and there's like a swirling ethereal haze of mainly evil spells prickling the air all around and a growled incantation just waiting to be backmasked and then this horrible laughter and suddenly you see it, a well or perhaps a spring and out of it something is rising and rising like the riffs that are playing in your head and the rumbling, tireless percussion that is making the trees themselves tremble and the sound is just getting bigger and bigger and more reverent of the being within.
And you might think surely it's going to stop growing now but it's so enormous and powerful and the riffs just do not end and you think just what the hell is this thing made out of? It's dripping with otherworldly fluids that inspire a final flourish of delicately melodic guitar lead marking the end of the spell and suddenly this thing is speaking to you, right inside of your eardrums, its voice is low and reverberates inside of your skull and you feel yourself compulsed to worship and you know this is the Mortal God that you didn't know before but you've been looking for all of your life. Behind the head or what looks like the head the sun is completely black or this thing has a seriously swangin' afro, it's quite hard to tell, but you are on your knees now nodding obediently along to the riffs and leads and the primeval percussion, just pitifully slapping the ground with your scrawny fists to try and rationalize the powerful sway that the whole ordeal has over you.
Before you know it the huge blue entity is at full strength now, fully Revived, and he's mostly humanoid apart from below his torso which is this grotesque honeycomb of stringy dripping ice blue flesh and he looks down at you with a impenetrable eyeless gaze and you are overcome with self doubt but the soothing riffs remind you that all is well and a breeze of chilling atmospheric interlude placates you as the riffs slow down just like your heartbeat and you hear something that almost sounds like your own voice repeat the words that the being has spoken to you and everything is perfect but then you see it, inside the hands of the thing is a shining blue foetus, fresh and mewling, and you realize all along the beast was never recovering at all, it was birthing another of its kind. The thing wrenches itself from the Spring of Recovery and slithers away to obscurity and the riffs and drums fade away you are left with a jarring acoustic epilogue as light and some semblance of normality return to the forest and you reflect on your part in the horrific ritual. You start to try to find your way home but you know deep down that those riffs will stay in your head forever.
