Luyện nghe bài hát Post-mortem Procedures

In the dissection of and the sawing of bone, I've coaxed confessions
from the lips of the dead, scrutiny that has clinically shone, The
horrifying facts that would never been said... Unbosoming their secrets
in the sickening results of their demise, these wretched human
riddles, I carve, hack and slice, the dusty skeletons that lurk
in closets, bones and entrails, Enduring the ghastly of violent death
in my forensic travails... in pieces or completely decomposed, I asses
with clinical indifference, The remnants of a life which circumstance
has brought to this office, Ensuring that shall endure after the flesh
has crumbled and away, Elucidating atrocities and carnage, the
job I perform day after day... Persistent incisions that cut to the
quick are my stock in trade, To scrutinize remains of a life,
painstaking effort have to be made, At times both evidence and flesh are
profoundly encrypted and shred, It can be to pry answers from the
mouths of the dead... A gutted can pose a bevy of answerless questions
to deliberate, Probing with a scalpel, I the morbid cavity that I now
eviscerate, Unlocking death's mysteries with my forceps, tweezers and
saw, Wringing revelations from a fibula, fossa or jaw...
confessions that are uttered without making a sound, informants long dead
I've culled from the ground, Beneath the pallid veil of cold flesh or
enshrouded in the shredded remains of a face, the truth is my
occupation, no matter how decrepit its place... Within the bowels of a
horribly mutilated corpse or a splattered brain, Picking apart and
deceit til only the cold facts remain, Dead men will tales if you know
how to listen and learn, Even when they've stabbed, beaten, shot, hacked
up and burned... This morbid for knowledge is not without its rewards,
Much can be extrapolated from a infants gourd, My bureau's a slab, my
is a corpse, and I've studied with sincere, ardent fervor, And found that
often inhumanity to man is all to well deserved...