Luyện nghe bài hát Consuming Impulse

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

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

Cauterize the gargled to stave off the hemorrhage
You should savor the of your repast
Choke down this bitter meal in spite of revulsion
how long can your source of food last?

Keeping yourself as you're force-fed your own flesh
If you eat up, you're truly dead meat
Legs to stumps, bloody drinks gargled in clumps
In case you really are what you eat

gluttony
Culinary pathology, dietary
Consuming
Ingest your to be

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

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

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

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

Autophagous
Culinary pathology, dietary
Consuming
your corpse to be

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

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

Puking up your own skin, to devour it again
Is a treat save for dessert
Fresh meat for your lunch, fibula cracked, and crunched
As your gullet gasps and blurts

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

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

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

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

Autophagous
Culinary pathology, dietary
impulse
Excrete corpse to be