[musick & lyrixxx - Matt Harvey, 1995]
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By night I return to the storage shed, Anxious to catch a glimpse of the dead,
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Nervously, I unbolt the door, Making my way into this abatoir... Hot air
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rushes out the aperture, A putrid gust of flattus and methane, Inhaling the
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rotting fumes as I choke, Hit by a wave of nausea I try to restrain... At last
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I regard the bloated stiffs, Terribly dislimbed and deceased, My plumpened
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prizes now swollen by putrefaction, A makeshift mortuary for the obese...
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Their corpulence exceeded solely, By the foulness of their smell, Their girth
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only expanded upon in death, The fleshy carcasses bloat and swell...
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Postmortem hypertrophy plagues the hefty cadavers, Their portly bodies now
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thoroughly dead, The incessant buzzing of insects as necrovores slaver, Fills
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the tepid chamber whose walls I've stained red... I hacked through their
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layers of blubbering fat, Some were gutted, some punctured, some razed, When I
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finished I found them decidedly flat, If not yet dead, then at least bleeding
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and dazed... In this dingy shack I had left them to rot, And then departed the
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undignified scene, The makeshift crypt they inhabit now fetid and hot, The
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curdling innards turned a sickly shade of green
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In My Human Slaughterhouse
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| Exhumed |
