Luyện nghe bài hát Consuming Impulse

Your dry creaks without a saliva to sputter
As your pulpy dehydrated soundlessly threshes
Days without sustenance shackled and fettered
Emaciated torso aches for the taste of flesh

I will make a meal of you, your I'll sate
Saw off your leg at the knee to put on dinner plate
Try not to wince at the pain that you
As I mince up your to prepare your next meal

Cauterize the gargled wound to stave off the
You should the thought of your repast
Choke down this meal in spite of your revulsion
Though how long can your source of last?

yourself alive as you're force-fed your own flesh
If you don't eat up, you're truly meat
turned to stumps, bloody drinks gargled in clumps
In this case you are what you eat

gluttony
Culinary pathology, dietary
Consuming
your corpse to be

Quadriplegic you feed as your dinner is
not ; want not, though there's not much to conserve
Severed and severely served upon a of splatter
After a while the source of the barely even matters

Now a torso gorged to the glut
Piece by you are fed the chicest cuts
As the dinner-bell rings your bloody are feverishly licked
At the sight of own roasted fat turned and browned on a spit

Your own meat in mouth tastes bitter and internecine
Noxious and moist, you get a of your own medicine
Gnashing, pieces of your with delight
Digesting death with each grotesque bloody bite

What's eating you? The question to moot
Scraping chunks of your feet out of your blood-soaked sopping
Bash open bones picked to suckle at the marrow
As your culinary milieu of inexorably narrows

gluttony
Culinary pathology, butchery
Consuming
Ingest your to be

Feeding time comes again, the thorax victim to this slaughter
Blood, pus and sebum replace wine, whiskey and
Sometimes survival cost you an arm and a leg
Your running, red with bits of reeking bloody dregs

Masticate own genitals, choke on your bludgeoned testicles
With a hunger that will not be
The sweetest of meats is your soft, teats
That I'll be stuffing your face tonight

Puking up own skin, just to devour it again
Is a you'll save for dessert
Fresh meat for lunch, fibula cracked, drained and crunched
As your overstuffed gasps and blurts

Your crudely resected anatomy is a wretched grisly
But your stumps once arms just whet your
Nibbling at the of your bloody forearms and wrists ravenously
Devouring your shredded survival in fleshly chunks and bits

Eviscerate yourself to gnaw at own intestines
Bones from severed facilitate this haphazard self-dissection
Clutch at grume inside your bowels with half-eaten grubby
Pulling out the repugnant in grotesque tumescent clumps

Remaining fingers off your succulent gouged out gums
Gnaw at your stringy cheek lining and your insatiable tongue
But the pieces you ingest in carnivorous
Fall out of the gaping that you have in your intestines

Gnash the meat your avulsed face in a frenzied rush
No genitals, no feet, no legs, no appendage uncrushed
Half-eaten oozes spittle down your face, your hunger
Undiminished, only when your partially innards
Prolapse will meal at last be finished

gluttony
Culinary pathology, butchery
impulse
Excrete corpse to be