Luyện nghe bài hát Nativity Obscene - A Nursery Chyme

[Musick & Lyrixxx - Harvey]

Calcified infant is a birth debacle
necrolysis, destined for a formaldehyde-filled bottle
Caesarean section the ghastly tot
An infant, in its womb borne to rot

Livid and stiff ere its breath is claimed
The rigid of joy, catatonically maimed
Cold, dead and hard as it's from the womb
The uterus its cradle, and its fetid tomb...

Only scalpels for playthings
Swaddling clothes bloody but not chafing
Baptism by solution
As the trocar the cold blood's dilution...

Festered fetus drawn from the cavity in it was conceived
Birth and death now unified, as the grotesque is retrieved
Livid osteopedion, breathless still, cold and dry
Birth is just a folly when in being born one dies

Birth and in one fell breath, extract the corpse from her guts
The morbid birthing cavity is lavaged, and cut
Another tiny life that before it could begin
Another of human offal, to end up in the rubbish bin...

Neither gurgles nor cries escape its lifeless blue
Placenta amniotic fluid as the umbilical cord rips
Morbid nursery chymes fall on little ears
As the dry-eyed infant parents to bitter tears...

atrocity
With a casket for a
Nursery for an
bag for a bib...

Hush baby, don't say a word
Mama's going to to get a casket reserved
But if body is too decomposed
The coffin door will to stay closed

A in her arms
Not safe from
When the water breaks, the cradle rot
A chyme with no happy ending, left in the wastebasket, dead and
forgot...

- Matt]

Another corpse to for pathologists and their ilk
Nursed on embalming fluid, no use crying over mother's milk
baby rattles stilled
The doctor's gloved hands deliver the babe into a grave now is filled

Morbid anatomy are the child's only playmates
Callously dissecting, the inanimate
A bloodied dissecting table serves as the young one's tomb and
As butchery, splays this joyless rotten bundle...

Dead before ever being to die
closed forever ere the first tear could dry
Mouth sealed by rigor before the first newborn cry
Dissected infant on the table, and dry...

Newborn
Whose is a slab
nativity
Diminutive to be tagged...

Now I lay you down to
Your flesh not long to keep
If you should rot you wake
Then leave your corpse for the worms to

In the cold in the sterile, dead morgue
Sobs are from the maternity ward
But the mouth of babes, no sound escapes
In nativity obscene behind mortuary drapes...