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, Postmortem scrutiny that has shone, The
facts that would have never been said... Unbosoming their secrets
in the sickening results of their demise, Stomaching these human
riddles, I carve, hack and slice, Illuminating the dusty skeletons that
in closets, bones and entrails, Enduring the visage of violent death
in my forensic travails... Whether in pieces or decomposed, I asses
with clinical indifference, The remnants of a life which grisly
has brought to this office, Ensuring that truth shall endure after the
has crumbled and away, Elucidating atrocities and carnage, the
thankless job I perform day after day... incisions that cut to the
are my stock in trade, To scrutinize what 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 torso can pose a bevy of answerless questions
to deliberate, Probing with a scalpel, I expose the cavity that I now
must eviscerate, death's mysteries with my forceps, tweezers and
saw, Wringing revelations from a fibula, fossa or jaw...
confessions that are uttered without a sound, From informants long dead
that 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 resting place... 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 quest for knowledge is not without its rewards,
Much can be extrapolated from a decrepit infants gourd, My a slab, my
text is a corpse, and studied with sincere, ardent fervor, And found that
often inhumanity to man is all to well deserved...