Luyện nghe bài hát Post-mortem Procedures

In the dissection of flesh and the sawing of bone, I've 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 results of their demise, these wretched human
riddles, I carve, and slice, Illuminating the dusty skeletons that lurk
in closets, bones and entrails, Enduring the ghastly visage of death
in my forensic travails... Whether in pieces or decomposed, I asses
clinical indifference, The remnants of a life which grisly circumstance
has brought to this office, Ensuring that truth endure after the flesh
has crumbled and rotted away, Elucidating and carnage, the
thankless job I perform day after day... incisions that cut to the
quick are my stock in trade, To scrutinize remains of a life,
effort will have to be made, At times both evidence and flesh are
profoundly encrypted and shred, It can be murder to pry answers the
mouths of the dead... A torso can pose a bevy of answerless questions
to deliberate, Probing a scalpel, I expose 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 that are uttered without a sound, From informants long dead
that I've culled from the ground, Beneath the pallid veil of flesh or
enshrouded in the remains of a face, Exhuming the truth is my
occupation, no matter how decrepit its place... Within the bowels of a
horribly mutilated corpse or a splattered brain, Picking flesh and
deceit til only the facts 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 morbid quest for knowledge is not its rewards,
can be extrapolated from a decrepit infants gourd, My bureau's a slab, my
text is a corpse, and I've studied with sincere, fervor, And found that
man's inhumanity to man is all to well deserved...