Luyện nghe bài hát In My Human Slaughterhouse...

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