Luyện nghe bài hát Grotesqueries

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

Sycophants, writhing blind
off each others' regurgitation
Disgorging waste we find
Breeding our degradation with exhalation

Lambs to the
Feast of fools the fodder
No trompe to behold
a wretched drama to unfold

Gnarled this mortal coil
Within which the voracious feebly
Enamored of our own
We in our own grotesqueries

ourselves to find nothing alive
Just a of perversely animated pieces
Nothing within to revive
We're knee-deep in our own fetid feces

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

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

through this mortal coil
Now our desserts are brought to a boil
Somewhere between the 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 into which we gladly
In this cold coil we're and fettered

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

Crass
Eschatological
We create others' atrocities
In grotesquery

Asphyxiated by this coil
Reaping fruits long since despoiled
Until our depraved lives at surcease
hunger for more grotesqueries