Luyện nghe bài hát Post-mortem Procedures

In the dissection of flesh and the sawing of bone, coaxed confessions
from the lips of the dead, scrutiny that has clinically shone, The
horrifying that would have never been said... Unbosoming their secrets
in the sickening of their demise, Stomaching these wretched human
riddles, I carve, and slice, Illuminating the dusty skeletons that lurk
in closets, bones and entrails, Enduring the ghastly visage of violent
in my forensic travails... Whether in pieces or completely decomposed, I
with clinical indifference, The remnants of a which grisly circumstance
has brought to this office, Ensuring that shall endure after the flesh
has crumbled and rotted away, atrocities and carnage, the
thankless job I day after day... Persistent incisions that cut to the
quick are my in trade, To scrutinize what remains of a life,
painstaking will 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 torso can pose a bevy of questions
to deliberate, Probing with a scalpel, I the morbid cavity that I now
must eviscerate, death's mysteries with my forceps, tweezers and
saw, Wringing revelations a fibula, fossa or jaw... Recording
confessions are uttered without making a sound, From informants long dead
that I've culled from the ground, Beneath the pallid veil of cold or
enshrouded in the shredded remains of a face, the truth is my
occupation, no matter how decrepit its resting place... Within the of a
horribly mutilated corpse or a brain, Picking apart flesh and
til only the cold facts remain, Dead men will tell 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
text is a corpse, and I've studied with sincere, fervor, And found that
often man's inhumanity to man is all to deserved...