[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