Epicurean pathology
Shattered gross anatomy
Bodily fluids, foul and septic
I sing the body decrepit
Your funeral, my feast
You'll never rest in peace
Tagged, sectioned, then slabbed
Slurp fluids from your body-bag
Repulsive, jaundiced flesh - The stomach-turning sight, that I love best
Necrosis setting in - Discolored, rotting, mottled skin
The weevils writhe and squirm - Your torso now alive with worms
As organs liquefy - I whet my abhorrent appetite
Your funeral, my feast
masterstroke of rotting meat
My dinner table's where you rest in piece
Your funeral, my feast [bad word] garnish, moist carnage
Raw bits of human garbage
The chunks seep, they won't keep
Gnashing through, as each piece bleeds
Your decay, my entrée
I wouldn't have it any other way
Maggot millet, stuffs your gullet
To please my most deranged of palettes
Splenetic, ghastly taste - The stinking savor of pathological waste
Trypsin and Pepsin marinate - The loathsome bowels I masticate
To dine upon this foul concoction - Requires a taste for extreme unction
But for those who have the stomach - We sate our hunger on tripe and vomit
Your funeral, my feast
masterstroke of rotting meat
My dinner table's where you rest in piece
Your funeral, my feast