Dis-Assembly Line

(albüm: All Guts, No Glory - 2011)

Throw open the drawers in the dissection ward
Hone the keen of the scalpel's dread blade
Scrub down the slab, for toes yet to be tagged
And Y-shaped thoracic incisions to be made

Slice, through the corpses that now lay before us
Postmortem butchery
Hack, through the thorax with bonesaw and pick-axe
Recreational pathology

In death we are brought to this, dis-assembly line
Our legacy is hacked to bits, dis-assembly line
On toe-tags our epigraphs writ
Reduced to bone, flesh, bowels and shit
Dis-assembly line

Ribcages shattered, gastric acids spatter
The trocar suctions sebum and bile
Craniotomies botched, cold blood curdles and clots
Staining forceps, hemostat and file

Rend, through cold flesh, never minding the mess
Dis-organized carnal junk heap
Slash, limb, hands, and feet, autopsy incomplete
Just another piece of dead meat

In death we are brought to this, dis-assembly line
Our legacy is hacked to bits, dis-assembly line
On toe-tags our epigraphs writ
Reduced to bone, flesh, bowels and shit
Dis-assembly line

Cankered cadavers, strewn in swollen disorder
An abattoir of the deceased
Slaughter the dead, spraying green, black and red
In gastric discharge I stand ankle-deep

Tear out the brains of the sadistically splayed
Indignities heaped upon their expiration
Shred, unseeing eyes and gash venal, flabby thighs
With macabre, sardonic vexation

In death we are brought to this, dis-assembly line
Our legacy is hacked to bits, dis-assembly line
On toe-tags our epigraphs writ
Reduced to bone, flesh, bowels and shit
Dis-assembly line