Luyện nghe bài hát Nativity Obscene - A Nursery Chyme

[Musick & Lyrixxx - Matt

infant is a breach birth debacle
Natal necrolysis, destined for a bottle
Caesarean section the ghastly tot
An ossified infant, in its womb to rot

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

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

Festered fetus drawn from the cavity in which it was
Birth and death now unified, as the infant is retrieved
Livid osteopedion, lungs still, cold and dry
Birth is just a forensic folly when in born one dies

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

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

Obstetric
With a for a crib
Nursery for an
bag for a bib...

Hush little baby, don't say a
Mama's going to have to get a reserved
But if your is too decomposed
The coffin will have to stay closed

A babe in her
Not safe harm
When the water breaks, the cradle rot
A nursery chyme with no 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
Silent baby stilled
The doctor's gloved hands deliver the babe into a grave that now is

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

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

fatality
Whose playpen is a
nativity
Diminutive to be tagged...

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

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