Luyện nghe bài hát Grotesqueries

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

Sycophants, we're writhing
Feeding off others' regurgitation
Disgorging whatever waste we
Breeding our degradation with each

Lambs to the
Feast of fools upon the
No trompe to behold
Just a wretched to unfold

within this mortal coil
Within the voracious feebly toil
of our own disease
We in our own grotesqueries

Dissecting ourselves to find alive
Just a mass of perversely animated
Nothing within to revive
mired knee-deep in our own fetid feces

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

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

through this mortal coil
Now our unctuous desserts are to a boil
Somewhere the living and the deceased
We gag on the of our grotesqueries

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

As we ingest each waste, in a frenzied feeding rush
everything sick and dead in our wake
Devouring other in ravening, unheeding crush
As we gorge ourselves on all the tripe and offal we can

menagerie
Eschatological
We create others' atrocities
In grotesquery

Asphyxiated by mortal coil
Reaping rancid fruits since despoiled
Until our depraved lives at last
We'll hunger for grotesqueries