Luyện nghe bài hát Nativity Obscene - A Nursery Chyme

[Musick & Lyrixxx - Matt

Calcified infant is a breach debacle
Natal necrolysis, destined for a formaldehyde-filled
Caesarean section the ghastly tot
An ossified infant, in its womb to rot

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

Only scalpels for playthings
Swaddling bloody but not from chafing
by embalming solution
As the facilities the cold blood's dilution...

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

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

Neither gurgles nor cries escape its lifeless blue
Placenta disgorges amniotic as the umbilical cord rips
nursery chymes fall on deaf little ears
As the infant incites parents to bitter tears...

atrocity
With a for a crib
for an autopsy
bag for a bib...

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

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

[Lead -

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

anatomy technicians are the child's only playmates
Callously dissecting, the infantile
A dissecting table serves as the young one's tomb and trundle
As inquisitive butchery, this joyless rotten bundle...

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

fatality
Whose is a slab
Lifeless
toes to be tagged...

Now I lay you to sleep
Your flesh not long to keep
If you should rot before you
leave your corpse for the worms to take

In the cold corridors in the sterile, dead
are heard from the maternity ward
But from the mouth of babes, no escapes
In this obscene behind mortuary drapes...