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, scrutiny that has clinically shone, The
horrifying facts that would never been said... Unbosoming their secrets
in the sickening results of their demise, Stomaching these wretched
riddles, I carve, hack and slice, Illuminating the skeletons that lurk
in closets, and entrails, Enduring the ghastly visage of violent death
in my forensic travails... Whether in or completely decomposed, I asses
with clinical indifference, The of a life which grisly circumstance
has brought to office, Ensuring that truth shall endure after the flesh
has crumbled and rotted away, Elucidating and carnage, the
thankless job I perform day after day... Persistent incisions cut to the
are my stock in trade, To scrutinize what remains of a life,
painstaking effort will to be made, At times both evidence and flesh are
profoundly encrypted and shred, It can be murder to pry from the
mouths of the dead... A gutted torso can pose a bevy of answerless
to deliberate, with a scalpel, I expose the morbid cavity that I now
must eviscerate, Unlocking death's with my forceps, tweezers and
saw, revelations from a fibula, fossa or jaw... Recording
confessions that are uttered making a sound, From informants long dead
that I've culled from the ground, Beneath the pallid veil of flesh or
enshrouded in the shredded of a face, Exhuming the truth is my
occupation, no matter how decrepit its resting place... the bowels of a
horribly mutilated corpse or a splattered brain, Picking flesh and
deceit til only the cold remain, Dead men will tell tales if you know
how to listen and learn, when they've been stabbed, beaten, shot, hacked
up and burned... This morbid quest for is not without its rewards,
Much can be extrapolated from a decrepit infants gourd, My a slab, my
text is a corpse, and I've studied with sincere, ardent fervor, And that
man's inhumanity to man is all to well deserved...