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 ossified infant, in its womb to rot

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

Only scalpels for playthings
clothes bloody but not from chafing
Baptism by solution
As the trocar facilities the cold dilution...

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

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

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

Obstetric
With a casket for a
for an autopsy
bag for a bib...

Hush little baby, say a word
Mama's to have to get a casket reserved
But if your is too decomposed
The coffin door will to stay closed

A babe in her
Not from harm
the water breaks, the cradle will rot
A nursery chyme with no happy ending, left in the wastebasket, and
forgot...

[Lead -

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

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

Dead before ever alive to die
Eyes closed forever ere the tear could dry
Mouth sealed by rigor mortis before the newborn cry
Dissected on the table, dead-cut and dry...

fatality
Whose is a slab
Lifeless
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 corridors in the sterile, morgue
are heard from the maternity ward
But from the mouth of babes, no sound
In nativity obscene behind mortuary drapes...