Early at mourning I go to the morgue I have my breakfast on a dismembered corpse Dissecting its organs whistling as I work Beholding my carnage, I delight on gore
I love my profession as mortuary technician So funny, macabre and sick I am alone when my workdays ends Corpses are my only friends
Cemetery at midnight is my favourite place Disturbing the quietus I break open the grave Digging up the coffin, grabbin knife and fork Smell the putrefaction... I feast on the rot
Nocturnal party of greedy necrophagia Carving out putrid remains Ingesting toxines from rotting exudate I'm addicted to ptomaine
Extracting rancid fats Used as sauce for raw guts Decrepit dinner is served I'm hungry for maggoty flesh
Festered offals garnished with gall Gastronomic funeral Delicious taste of dead Gnawned bones is all that left
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