Luyện nghe bài hát Grotesqueries

All the world's indeed a
And we are maggots
Dead on is our only course
And if the toe fits, tag it

Sycophants, writhing blind
Feeding off each regurgitation
Disgorging whatever we find
Breeding our degradation with exhalation

to the slaughter
Feast of upon the fodder
No trompe to behold
Just a drama to unfold

Gnarled within this coil
Within which the voracious toil
Enamored of our own
We revel in our own

Dissecting to find nothing alive
Just a mass of perversely pieces
Nothing within worthwhile to
We're mired knee-deep in our own feces

Gorging our gnawing jaws our own pathological waste
Like grubs wriggling in the rank feast of
We grind our own bones into each futile step we take
As we inch unseeing through day day

or consumed
We all end up as chyme and
Upon the fetid mass we
Leaving us in no position to appreciate the joke

Twisted through mortal coil
Now our desserts are brought to a boil
Somewhere between the living and the
We gag on the feast of our

Too by consumption to see our own ends
all dead and only getting deader
Digging our own graves into we gladly descend
In this cold coil we're shackled and

As we ingest each others' waste, in a frenzied feeding
Leaving everything and dead in our wake
Devouring each in ravening, unheeding crush
As we gorge ourselves on all the tripe and we can intake

Crass
estuary
We create others' atrocities
In this

Asphyxiated by this mortal
rancid fruits long since despoiled
Until our lives at last surcease
hunger for more grotesqueries