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, we're writhing
Feeding off each others'
Disgorging whatever waste we
Breeding our degradation each exhalation

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

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

Dissecting to find nothing alive
a mass of perversely animated pieces
Nothing worthwhile to revive
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 through day after day

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

Twisted this mortal coil
Now our unctuous are brought to a boil
Somewhere the living 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 gladly
In this cold we're shackled and fettered

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

Crass
estuary
We create others' atrocities
In this

Asphyxiated by mortal coil
Reaping rancid fruits long despoiled
Until our depraved at last surcease
We'll for more grotesqueries