Album: The Dead Shall Dead Remain 
|F?Ces Of Death|
Desiccated flesh I peruse, |
Your vacuous form is devoid of all life,
Poetry in motions,
As yet another stiff goes under the knife,
Soaked in the fluids of the dead,
Mucous, blood, and pus.
Your abdomen a quagmire of maturating chyme,
With preservatives and soaps your innards I flush,
Melting organs degenerate into foam,
This unctuous melange is disgorged into tureens,
Down the drain, your insides wash away,
A cold empty shell, the slate is wiped clean
Incruental- exsanguinated husk
Intubated-a trocar is thrust
Incarnadine-with offal you'll erupt
Your carcass I'll corrupt
Despumated-your ribcage is swabbed
Detumescence-in solidifying globs
Devenustated-you've lost all your charm
In my incapable hands you will surely come to harm
Your evacuated torso is stuffed,
With soiled toilet tissue, balled into clumps
Diarrhea is imbued with a smile,
With my conspurcate concoction, your body I defile
Inundated arteries now burst,
In festering excreta, immersed,
Your body is awash in disease,
When I'm alone in the morgue, I do as I please
Plugs of cotton soak up minor spills (you're quite a mess)
The rich, foamy lather of putrefying bungs,
Your fetor is inhaled with a thrill (I can't protest)
The flatulent bouquet matures in my lungs
Exspiscating-my work didn't take
Exundated-the sutures proceed to break
Exspuition-the contents are purged
Flesh and faeces are merged
(solo: Full of Shit by SC McGrath)
Embalmed with septic mung,
Capillaries choked with dung,
A piss poor excuse for an open casket funeral
Abdomen is sunken in,
My foetid breath is laced with gin,
Your cadaver on display for the bereaved to mull
|Flesh And Blood|
(Solo: "De-incarnated Mass of Fungal Strains " by S. C. McGrath) |
Pulling the morbid stiffs,
From the damp, sepulchral tomb,
Harvesting the rotten,
My vocation, to exhume,
Methanous tissues removed,
With procedures so emetic,
A sordid conflagration,
Your corpse is quite pathetic.
Dissecting body parts, disinhumed,
As my head starts to reel from the fumes,
Consuming the cadaverous chyme,
Sopped up from the crypt,
I morbidly dissect,
As jellified muscles are ripped.
Oozing thoracic pulp,
Is thoroughly molested,
Engorged with cankerous phlegm,
I've left you quite congested.
Grinding the dead into slaw,
As formaldehyde drips from my maw,
Committing your remains to the mud,
Eternally, you'll rot,
You're only flesh and blood.
Your remnants are boxed,
(Solo: "One Foot in the Grave" by S. C. McGrath)
Bones have been picked,
(Solo: "Distressed Fallopian Discharge Bottled & Sold" by L. d. Muerte)
Your carnage interred,
(Solo: "Uglinous Erosion of Necrocellular Proteins" by S. C. McGrath)
Abotched, necrotic wreck
(Solo: "Blood Bank Robbery and Singular Enjoyment of Booty" by L. d. Muerte)
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...
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 invaginated 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 Ld Muerte)
(solo: “Lachrimose Germentation” by SC 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…
|Spirits Of The Dead|
Your ribcage is avulsed, |
Mangled, chopped, and hewn,
Organ meats have been sundered,
And about your coffin strewn,
Latent germs deliquesce your guts,
Fermenting your simmering brine,
Upon this loathsome, steaming mass,
I'm predisposed to dine.
Dehydrated liver is quenched with grog,
in a gurgulating froth, dissolved,
In purulence ruptured, your bowel has turned septic,
Your innards are now devolved.
Intestines turn to slush,
Inebriating fumes, mind altering effluvium,
An intoxicating funeral binge on post-digestive chum,
Carbonated gastric stew,
Excreted, distilled, and imbibed,
A nidorous concoction fermented to proof,
The dead I tap, siphon, and grind
(Solo: "Dead drunk" by S.C. McGrath)
(Solo: "Consumption of inebriates and subsequent goggles of alcoholic deception" by L.d. Muerte)
(Solo: "The siphoning of liquescent dead tissue for use in the fermentation of grain alchohol, and the consumption thereof" by S.C. McGrath)
(Solo: "A porcelain visitation" by L.d. Muerte")
Spirits of the dead,
Sip the rotting head,
With Necroholic Brew...
The colon explodes with diarrheal sepsis, |
Anal leakage ecstactically shed,
A stenching mass of post bolal rot,
corn laced reeking ano-gastric snot,
Your skivvies besmirched with fetid mung,
Liquid viscous, peanut dotted dung,
Your rectum protrudes from its now swollen rim,
Your diapers are filled to the brim.
through which the sludge is passed,
It always hurts the first time
Defecate... Remove the dregs
with an afterbirth of chyle,
to you lips bring a smile
(Solo: "Manual Deinstallation of Ordure from Partially Decrepit Bungs"
by L. d. Muerte)
Table manners lacking in grace,
your fingers used to stuff your face,
your breech still emitting rancorous poo,
pour another bowl of butthole stew,
Your anus wiped clean with antiseptic pads,
Depuration of fecal clots,
Powdered with talc, your bilge takes on a pallor,
Decreptitation, a sickening false alarm,
Digested pablum disposed of with haste,
Bursting at the seams, a bag full of waste,
Decontaminated, to try and make amends,
You're bound to fill your trousers... again!
Mastication starts the process, |
Transforms the food into bolus,
Deglutition of the ruffage,
Careening straight down my gullet,
Into my gut it will plummet,
Churning acids digest chyme,
Escheria E-coli wil act,
As a complex glucose tap,
But it's from the rectum I gain,
The excrement which flows like rain.
Our feces who art in rectum,
Hallowed be thy name,
Thy kingdom bung, thy will be dung,
The filth invades my septum,
Hole(y) anus full of shit,
The turd is with me,
Blessed art thou copraphagist,
Messed is the fruit of thy feast.
Bowing to the porcelain god,
Plunge my face in the steaming mess,
Bobbing for stinky turds,
Septic waters filled with cess,
A smile crosses my sullied face,
Eagerly devouring my waste,
My bowel movement I must praise,
The ordure fits my taste,
Ingest the scat, eat the mess,
Swallow the filth, engorge the cess,
An epiphany of divine waste,
The genesis of... shit,
Analic hyms, mass for a mass,
My appetite is... sick,
Covenant with chyme to create crap,
Exodus out my... hole,
My prayers answered, I flush the altar,
Let my feces... go!
|Back To The Grave|
Exhumed, debauched and consumed |
My torpid flesh has been sullied by your spunk
And I have played privy to your necrotic whimsy
You so enjoyed inhaling my decrepit funk
My organs and entrails you delightfully assailed
Thrashing mound of thoracic de-activity
A lover you have found, six feet down
Licking from my skin the moist lividity...
Torn from the tomb for your lustful desire
My fouled viscera are what you admire
An unholy union on a funeral pyre
A caseated carcass really lights your fire...
A sickening treat under the sheets
The rigor mortis of love can be hard
And the love that we have made, from the grave I was laid
Rubbing your genitals in my congealing lard
A glistening liver and ensanguined gut
The erotic intestines of this grumous mound
Embalming fluid and morticians Y-cut
Turn you on as my omentum you pound...
Humiliated corpse, insults are compiled
Penetrated rectum, no guilt reconciled
Laid in a repose with a grisly smile
Used and abused, my existence defiled...
I'm a lover of the dead, as a corpse you'll share my bed, but your usefulness is bled
Back to the grave
I've had my sick fun, but now I am done, it's time for you to cum
Back to the grave
Our affair is through, I've no more use for you, you've paid your deathly dues
Back to the grave
We've shared death throws, but my love has decomposed, and now you will go
Back to the grave
Once you needed me
But now you'll go... solo...
(solo: “Death's Sweet Embrace” by S.C. McGrath)
Callously flaying your skin, no cum-passion, I confess
Revealing muscles and tendons to lasciviously caress
The object of my dissection, a foetid mate at best
Relentlessly tugging at heart strings through a hole I tore in the chest...
(solo: “Rending a Broken Heart” by L.d. Muerte)
Employing a probing tool to penetrate the dry orifice
Grinding pus and masticating grume, I ram the ass with my fist
Be not distraught as your cadaver I drop, the remains of your lips I kiss
Thoroughly infested with maggots, your body has brought me such bliss...
Dead meat to crave
Cannot be saved... back to the grave...
Supple white flesh, bleached with death
Masturbate on my maggot eaten face
The cold touch of the dead (it has been said)
Can inspire a necromantic craze
You partook in love and human remains
With my disinterred body you were chuffed
But as I fall to pieces near the end
My rottenness will force a break-up...
Sever my skull and I'll give you head
About your boudoir my limbs are spread
But with your hunger for death now fed
This relationship is dead...
|All That Rots|
(Solo: "Funerary feast on the recently deceased" by S. C. McGrath) |
(Solo: "Manic Rottrephagia" L. d. Muerte)
(Solo: "Exfodiation of pus filled stiffs for total gormandization" by S. C. McGrath)
(Solo: "Exhibiting the trots from the consumption of rot" by L. d. Muerte)
Wholly rotten, your body decayed,
Your husk a decomposing organic sewer,
Ichor boiled, congealed, and reduced,
Into a fustular mass of fertile manure
Liquid waste expelled,
With a nauseating smell,
Your innards have started to turn,
The stink makes my sinuses burn,
With intestinal fortitude I'm forced to digest,
This purulent victual with which I'm obsessed,
Greedily binging on glistening turds,
As gristle and fat form globular curds
Pulsating liver is violently excised,
Pureed, brewed, and mulled,
A gustitory treat for the mentally ill,
With which my senses are dulled,
Your kidneys are stewed and with offal imbued,
In fused with simmering gore,
Of carbonized entrails and all that is rotten,
I'm quite a connoisseur.
A fetid tapioca is prepared in your colon,
Nauseating pudding, thickened with pus,
A genital souffle is concocted on the fly,
Post Mortem nutriment of decomposing guts,
Putrescine elixir is quaffed to kill the taste,
A most refreshing apertif,
The noxious beverage is tapped from your skull,
You're repulsively rotten beyond belief.
Latent Images in solutions submerged |
A gallery of gore for posterity preserved
Your visage shall endure long after you've been laid to rest
Immortalized in celluloid as record of your death...
A recremental work of art
Artuated straight from the heart
Your destiny is black and white
A grisly study in still life
A kalopsic collage is your patchwork grave
The cutting room floor is where you spend your last days
Anonymous atrocities, my subjects are the dead
An amateur gorenographer cutting off heads...
Glistening gralloch, a zoetrope of rot
exenterated torsos coacervate and clot
Veristic works of art are developed and displayed
decomposed and posed as I prepare another plate...
On my nefandous noctuary I diligently toil
For a carcass exfodiated from hallowed soil
An axunge prepared to grease the gears
Lacking my wit, kin may shed tears
Cohesive structure is what you lack
A poultice of plaster will fill in the cracks
Sculptures in flesh are my medium du jour
Your puniceous effigy I faithfully restore...
Abdomen is spliced and the lighting is set
I'll develop your roll as my ensanguined subject
Holes drilled in your skull form a camera obscura
This document of death will be rather thorough
My scrapbook of horror is your final epitaph
Pictures from the after world, a corpse photographed
Your countenance embossed in silver gelatin
A gruesome reminder of your untimely end...
A test sheet is used for the final cut
Through trial and error I make my decision
The template enlarged to a grainy print
This excoriated exhibit, my final revision...
(solo: “Welcome to the Bone Room” by Ld Muerte)
(solo: “Matted and Framed for Decay” by SC McGrath)
Artistic license I must take
Depleted bones I'm apt to break...
I strike the set, this shoot is a wrap
Your casket occluded with residual scraps
The harvest I find in a moldering crate
A cadaverous curio with which I create...
Necrotic ooze poured from a carafe |
Acquired for a blood bath...
In the morgue lies a treasure trove of lividinous compounds decaying
A trocar suctions out the blood while a sphincter suffers my raking
With reams of ichor and surplus of f?ces the dead are so giving
A boundless supply of foetid excretions compels me to lavage the stench of
My skin sullied with the filth of life
Vomit of my pores with which I am rife
In my crepitated pits bacteria thrive
Momentarily subdued by this morbid dive...
Cadaverous fats boiled into soap for a rotten lather
Ensanguine mix of excreta and chyme, the cleanser I have gathered
Putrescent spilth and human chum squab over the lip of my tub
Soaking in the dead, skeletal remains exfoliate and scrub...
A cauldron teeming with wasted corse
This mortal soiled with pus and remorse...
Out, out damned spot, caught red-handed, blood stains so hard to clean
Arteries pumping crimson kelter, veins to expunge and ream
A babe from the womb untimely ripped, bereft of life it's squeezed and drained
Placenta sponging at this corporeal form of which I am ashamed...
Cooked in a vat
A blood bath...
Scour away integument to reveal the fleshy tendons that I'll
Abrase with cholic acid and with a solvent composed of bile
Scrub out my gullet with a pro-septic wash that will
Erase this mired being to be drained with the rest of the swill...
Post-mortem spew and excrement garnish the mort bouillon
Meliorated with moldered viscera in my dead body lotion
The necro-emetic concoction, effervescing with unctuous suds
Desoils me of my besmirched existence, submerged in a basin of blood...