Luyện nghe bài hát Post-mortem Procedures

In the dissection of flesh and the sawing of bone, coaxed confessions
from the of the dead, Postmortem scrutiny that has clinically shone, The
horrifying facts that would have never been said... Unbosoming secrets
in the sickening results of their demise, Stomaching these wretched
riddles, I carve, hack and slice, Illuminating the dusty skeletons lurk
in closets, and entrails, Enduring the ghastly visage of violent death
in my forensic travails... Whether in pieces or decomposed, I asses
with indifference, The remnants of a life which grisly circumstance
has brought to this office, Ensuring that shall endure after the flesh
has crumbled and 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 what remains of a life,
painstaking effort will have to be made, At times both evidence and are
profoundly encrypted and shred, It can be murder to pry answers the
mouths of the dead... A gutted can pose a bevy of answerless questions
to deliberate, with a scalpel, I expose the morbid cavity that I now
must eviscerate, death's mysteries with my forceps, tweezers and
saw, Wringing revelations from a fibula, or jaw... Recording
confessions are uttered without making a sound, From informants long dead
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 corpse or a splattered brain, Picking apart flesh and
deceit til only the cold facts remain, men will tell tales if you know
how to listen and learn, Even they've been stabbed, beaten, shot, hacked
up and burned... morbid quest for knowledge is not without its rewards,
can be extrapolated from a decrepit infants gourd, My bureau's a slab, my
text is a corpse, and I've with sincere, ardent fervor, And found that
man's inhumanity to man is all to well deserved...