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, Postmortem scrutiny that has shone, The
horrifying facts that would have never been said... their secrets
in the sickening results of their demise, Stomaching these human
riddles, I carve, and slice, Illuminating the dusty skeletons that lurk
in closets, bones and entrails, Enduring the ghastly of violent death
in my forensic travails... Whether in pieces or decomposed, I asses
with clinical indifference, The remnants of a life which circumstance
has brought to this office, that truth 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 will to be made, At times both evidence and flesh are
profoundly and shred, It can be murder 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 expose the morbid cavity I now
must eviscerate, Unlocking death's mysteries my forceps, tweezers and
saw, Wringing revelations from a fibula, or jaw... Recording
confessions that are uttered without making a sound, From informants long
that I've culled from the ground, Beneath the pallid of cold flesh or
enshrouded in the shredded remains of a face, the truth is my
occupation, no matter how its resting place... Within the bowels of a
horribly mutilated corpse or a splattered brain, apart flesh and
deceit til only the cold facts remain, Dead men will tales if you know
how to listen and learn, Even when been 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, ardent fervor, And found
often inhumanity to man is all to well deserved...