[music - Leon del Muerte]
|
[lyrics - Sean McGrath]
|
|
Impacted tissue is riddled with clots
|
Morbidly studying your gross anatomy
|
Perinium is sullied with moldering pus
|
A mass of gelatinized forensick liquidity
|
Locating my trocar, the tool of my trade
|
Emaciated fingers nimbly find what I need
|
Desiring the gavage, I hastily optate
|
Into your chest intercalated as your innards I bleed
|
|
Muscle tissue rips, my needle drips
|
Proceeding with my work, I'm an insensitive jerk
|
Acid from your stomach is disgorged with a splat
|
Liquid offal gargles in your throat
|
Embalming tubes occluded with clumps of rotting fat
|
Decaying larval brine is force fed until you choke
|
|
Impaled on a spike, internal organs are sucked
|
Mellifluent gore by the buckets is drained
|
Pernicious bilge is pumped from your gut
|
Acidic bacteria now mangle your brain
|
|
Lactating pus
|
Eructating guts
|
Decorticated stiff
|
I take another sniff
|
|
Macerated veins are with a trocar dislodged
|
Playing host to my probe, your pelvis now sprays
|
Abdominal saliva is splattered from your anus
|
Lathering my needle, your ignominious remains
|
Easing the point into delicate flesh
|
Declension with steel is sublimely enmeshed
|
Irrigated fluids cake the porcelain slab
|
Methodically in-vaginated with bromidic scabs
|
|
Pus, from your veins, is tapped
|
A bloody awful mess, your corpse is bloodless
|
Lancinated gore is sapped
|
Exenterated sot, your withered cadaver will rot
|
|
Decaying on the slab
|
I take another stab
|
|
[solo: "The Mortician's Sword" by L.d. Muerte]
|
[solo: "Lachrimose Germentation" by S.C. McGrath]
|
|
Muscles are imbued with a gelatinous mix
|
Prepatent secretions from your bowel make me sick
|
A redolent mephitis maturates in the guts
|
Laughing at your humor as it seeps from the cuts
|
Ensmultified with larvae, your carcass is replete
|
Drawn and quarted in a morgue as innards I delete
|
Ichor is liquesced and from veins gladly pumped
|
My nocturnal vocation has my colleagues quite stumped
|
|
Packed in a coffin full of salt
|
An acrid scent seeps from the box
|
Lye is applied as the earth is fed
|
Ensconced in a tomb, for you are quite
|
Dead
|
|
-----------------
|
Trocar
|
| Impaled |
