Luyện nghe bài hát Grotesqueries

All the indeed a corpse
And we are maggots
on arrival is our only course
And if the toe fits, tag it

Sycophants, we're blind
Feeding off each others'
Disgorging whatever we find
Breeding our degradation with exhalation

to the slaughter
Feast of fools the fodder
No trompe l'oreil to
Just a wretched to unfold

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

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

Gorging our gnawing jaws with our own waste
Like grubs wriggling in the rank of decay
We grind our own into dust each futile step we take
As we unseeing through day after day

Consumer or
We all end up as and grume
Upon the fetid we choke
us in no position to appreciate the sick joke

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

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

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

menagerie
Eschatological
We create each atrocities
In grotesquery

by this mortal coil
Reaping rancid long since despoiled
Until our depraved at last surcease
We'll hunger for grotesqueries