Luyện nghe bài hát Nativity Obscene - A Nursery Chyme

[Musick & Lyrixxx - Matt

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

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

scalpels left for playthings
Swaddling clothes but not from chafing
Baptism by embalming
As the trocar facilities the cold dilution...

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

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

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

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

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

A in her arms
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
on embalming fluid, no use crying over silt mother's milk
Silent rattles stilled
The doctor's hands deliver the babe into a grave that now is filled

Morbid anatomy 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 being alive 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
putrid flesh not long to keep
If you rot before you wake
Then leave corpse for the worms to take

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