Luyện nghe bài hát Nativity Obscene - A Nursery Chyme

[Musick & Lyrixxx - Matt

Calcified infant is a breach birth
necrolysis, destined for a formaldehyde-filled bottle
Caesarean section reveals the tot
An ossified infant, in its womb to rot

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

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

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

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

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

atrocity
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 body is too
The coffin door will have to stay

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

- Matt]

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

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

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

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

Now I lay you down to
Your putrid flesh not to keep
If you should rot before you
Then 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...