Текст песни Trocar

[music - Leon del Muerte]
[lyrics - Sean McGrath]

Impacted tissue is riddled with clots
Morbidly studying your gross anatomy
Perinium is sullied with moldering pus
A mass of gelatinized forensick liquidity
Locating my trocar, the tool of my trade
Emaciated fingers nimbly find what I need
Desiring the gavage, I hastily optate
Into your chest intercalated as your innards I bleed

Muscle tissue rips, my needle drips
Proceeding with my work, I'm an insensitive jerk
Acid from your stomach is disgorged with a splat
Liquid offal gargles in your throat
Embalming tubes occluded with clumps of rotting fat
Decaying larval brine is force fed until you choke

Impaled on a spike, internal organs are sucked
Mellifluent gore by the buckets is drained
Pernicious bilge is pumped from your gut
Acidic bacteria now mangle your brain

Lactating pus
Eructating guts
Decorticated stiff
I take another sniff

Macerated veins are with a trocar dislodged
Playing host to my probe, your pelvis now sprays
Abdominal saliva is splattered from your anus Impaled - Trocar - http://ru.motolyrics.com/impaled/trocar-lyrics.html
Lathering my needle, your ignominious remains
Easing the point into delicate flesh
Declension with steel is sublimely enmeshed

Irrigated fluids cake the porcelain slab
Methodically in-vaginated with bromidic scabs

Pus, from your veins, is tapped
A bloody awful mess, your corpse is bloodless
Lancinated gore is sapped
Exenterated sot, your withered cadaver will rot

Decaying on the slab
I take another stab

[solo: "The Mortician's Sword" by L.d. Muerte]
[solo: "Lachrimose Germentation" by S.C. McGrath]

Muscles are imbued with a gelatinous mix
Prepatent secretions from your bowel make me sick
A redolent mephitis maturates in the guts
Laughing at your humor as it seeps from the cuts
Ensmultified with larvae, your carcass is replete
Drawn and quarted in a morgue as innards I delete
Ichor is liquesced and from veins gladly pumped
My nocturnal vocation has my colleagues quite stumped

Packed in a coffin full of salt
An acrid scent seeps from the box
Lye is applied as the earth is fed
Ensconced in a tomb, for you are quite
Dead