Luyện nghe bài hát In My Human Slaughterhouse...

By I return to the storage shed, Anxious to catch a glimpse of the dead,
Nervously, I the door, Making my way into this abatoir... Hot air
out the aperture, A putrid gust of flattus and methane, Inhaling the
rotting fumes as I choke, Hit by a wave of I try to restrain... At last
I regard the bloated stiffs, Terribly and deceased, My plumpened
prizes now swollen by putrefaction, A makeshift for the obese...
Their corpulence solely, By the foulness of their smell, Their girth
only expanded upon in death, The carcasses bloat and swell...
Postmortem hypertrophy plagues the hefty cadavers, portly bodies now
thoroughly dead, The incessant buzzing of as necrovores slaver, Fills
the tepid chamber whose walls stained red... I hacked through their
layers of fat, Some were gutted, some punctured, some razed, When I
finished I found decidedly flat, If not yet dead, then at least bleeding
and dazed... In this dingy I had left them to rot, And then departed the
scene, The makeshift crypt they inhabit now fetid and hot, The
curdling innards turned a sickly shade of