lirik lagu forensic clinicism – the sanguine article – carcass
salutiferous exaltation, through fusty spatterings i sift,
cauterizing proud flesh, pyogenic cortex i just yearn to rip,
with impalpable, cathartic tools, dilapidated l-sts i gratify,
cold premediated surgery, in my calculated surgery i hold your fragile life…
pultacious…
pugnacious…
pernicious…
acro-idiopathic…
artificially concussed, excavating to your gastric core,
patulous, deep wounds, cascading and crimson as i explore,
master at my bl–dy art, i like to carve sculpture and maim,
mounted on the freezer’s geurney, you’re exhibited until you enter into decay…
pultacious…
pugnacious…
delicious…
gastric-idiopathology…
welcome to my theatre, the stage upon which i act,
turning into a sumptuous perfomance, heiniously i hew and gash,
churning out a deep gulch, the incision a major nick,
a quick toke of nitrous oxide is how i get my kicks…
expurgating healthy tissue, opulent flesh i slit,
costate cuts expunged as the patient i now fillet,
malpractising and mussing, carnage hyperventilates,
self placebonic, the only is operate…
the rec-mbent are my prey – under my genital blade,
your precordium i brutally plunder – whilst you’re put under
exanguinating – you’re totally parched,
exenterating – removing body parts,
wholly abraded – surgically maimed,
decortication – medically slain
contaminating, infacting, how i love to cough and sneeze,
on the carneous culture, to cause bacteria to breed,
anaesthetised, paralysed, a clinical stupor is induced,
with callous dexterity your bodily m-ss is reduced…
i extract the gullet – to end up in my bucket,
a quick flick of my wrist – and i’ll be struck off the list
exanguinating – straigh from the heart,
exenterating – with my lancet so sharp,
anatomically – my surgery maims,
decortication – by the clinically deranged
gross misconduct, i make the choicest cuts,
text book stabs, written on your tag…
wheeled away after a medical mishap,
in a polythene bag your body is now wrapped…
the acute wound now sealed up,
the picture of ill-health, you’re a bit cut up…
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