Luyện nghe bài hát Post-mortem Procedures

In the of flesh and the sawing of bone, I've coaxed confessions
the lips of the dead, Postmortem scrutiny that has clinically shone, The
horrifying facts that would have never been said... Unbosoming their
in the sickening results of their demise, Stomaching these human
riddles, I carve, hack and slice, Illuminating the dusty skeletons that
in closets, and entrails, Enduring the ghastly visage of violent death
in my forensic travails... in pieces or completely decomposed, I asses
with clinical indifference, The of a life which grisly circumstance
has brought to this office, Ensuring truth shall endure after the flesh
has crumbled and rotted away, atrocities and carnage, the
thankless job I day after day... Persistent incisions that cut to the
are my stock in trade, To scrutinize what remains of a life,
painstaking effort will have to be made, At times both evidence and are
profoundly and shred, It can be murder to pry answers from the
mouths of the dead... A gutted torso can pose a 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 a fibula, fossa or jaw... Recording
that are uttered without making a sound, From informants long dead
that I've culled the ground, Beneath the pallid veil of cold flesh or
enshrouded in the shredded remains of a face, the truth 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 facts remain, Dead men tell tales if you know
how to listen and learn, when they've been stabbed, beaten, shot, hacked
up and burned... This 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 studied with sincere, ardent fervor, And found that
often man's inhumanity to man is all to deserved...