Luyện nghe bài hát Post-mortem Procedures

In the of flesh 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 wretched
riddles, I carve, hack and slice, Illuminating the dusty skeletons lurk
in closets, bones and entrails, the ghastly visage 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, Ensuring that truth endure after the flesh
has and rotted away, Elucidating atrocities and carnage, the
thankless job I perform day day... Persistent incisions that cut to the
quick are my stock in trade, To scrutinize what of a life,
painstaking will have to be made, At times both evidence and flesh are
encrypted and shred, It can be murder to pry answers from the
mouths of the dead... A torso can pose a bevy of answerless questions
to deliberate, with a scalpel, I expose the morbid cavity that I now
must eviscerate, Unlocking death's mysteries with my forceps, and
saw, Wringing revelations from a fibula, fossa or jaw...
confessions are uttered without making a sound, From informants long dead
that I've culled from the ground, the pallid veil of cold flesh or
enshrouded in the shredded remains of a face, Exhuming the is my
occupation, no how decrepit its resting place... Within the bowels of a
mutilated corpse or a splattered brain, Picking apart flesh and
deceit til only the cold remain, Dead men will tell tales if you know
how to and learn, Even when they've been stabbed, beaten, shot, hacked
up and burned... This quest for knowledge is not without its rewards,
Much can be extrapolated a decrepit infants gourd, My bureau's a slab, my
text is a corpse, and I've studied sincere, ardent fervor, And found that
often man's to man is all to well deserved...