Symposium of Sickness 歌词
| 歌曲 | Symposium of Sickness |
| 歌手 | Carcass |
| 专辑 | Necroticism - Descanting the Insalubrious |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Owen, Walker | |
| That's why | |
| I find it so amusing | |
| That the Latter-day | |
| Saints of our business | |
| One, attribute to me motives that just weren't there | |
| And two accuse me of corrupting morality | |
| Which I wish | |
| I had the power to do, prepare to die | |
| An encloaking, dark epoch | |
| In which all life is now appraised | |
| Another valueless commodity | |
| On which the paracious may feebly graze | |
| Indebted homage to their mammon | |
| Whilst the mort is the music of the meek | |
| Transcendence from a beatifully brutal reality | |
| Is what I seek | |
| Noxious, sully dolour | |
| Is not the sentiment upon which we feed | |
| But precocious consciousness | |
| Draws out a morbid nous to bleed | |
| Chiselling out seething words | |
| Which cut deep down to the bone | |
| Always legible | |
| So be it on our own headstone | |
| Rising to out own nadir | |
| Reality we try to extirpate | |
| Trying to raise a twisted smile | |
| Similar to that silver plate | |
| On a coffin which is joined | |
| Hammering in each final nail | |
| Last kill and testament | |
| Left now intestate | |
| Noxious, sully dolour | |
| Is not the thesis which is bled | |
| A precarious train of thought | |
| In which mental cattle-trucks are led | |
| Carving out skilful words | |
| Which shear brittle bones | |
| Always spelt out well | |
| We just can't leave the dead alone | |
| Monographic text | |
| A terminal doctrine of diseased minds perplexed | |
| Enunciated epigrams | |
| Eschatological, rotten requiems | |
| Always our own worst cynics | |
| Exorcisers of scorching scorn | |
| Digging our own graves | |
| But never stand over and mourn | |
| The roulade now pandemonium | |
| Displaced in the muggy sods | |
| Espoused with the macabre | |
| The dead we filch and rob | |
| Munificant bale | |
| From the deviants staid | |
| Execrations, taunting spiritual release | |
| Exoneration, upon the perishable we feast | |
| Excogitation, picking at the bones of convention | |
| Exculpitation, foul verbal conflagration | |
| Epigraphic text, a literary vex | |
| The macabre perplexed, with corporeality meshed | |
| Euthenic text | |
| An unpleasant journey to a world perplexed | |
| Corporeal epigraphs | |
| Eschatological unpleasantness | |
| Always forever cryptic | |
| Exercisers of twisted grief | |
| Helping you to dig up the interred | |
| Whilst fresh still are the wreaths | |
| The harmony now pandemonium | |
| Heard out in the muddy dirt | |
| Espoused with the bizzare | |
| We play on our own turf | |
| Epithetic text | |
| A macabre rality perplexed | |
| Execrations, literary tales of atrocities fairy | |
| Exoneration, harsh, cold bloody marys | |
| Excogitation, a narcissistic eutechnique | |
| Exculpitation, perverse artworks, so unique | |
| Monographic text, a literary vex | |
| The macabre perplexed with reality meshed |
| zuo ci : Owen, Walker | |
| That' s why | |
| I find it so amusing | |
| That the Latterday | |
| Saints of our business | |
| One, attribute to me motives that just weren' t there | |
| And two accuse me of corrupting morality | |
| Which I wish | |
| I had the power to do, prepare to die | |
| An encloaking, dark epoch | |
| In which all life is now appraised | |
| Another valueless commodity | |
| On which the paracious may feebly graze | |
| Indebted homage to their mammon | |
| Whilst the mort is the music of the meek | |
| Transcendence from a beatifully brutal reality | |
| Is what I seek | |
| Noxious, sully dolour | |
| Is not the sentiment upon which we feed | |
| But precocious consciousness | |
| Draws out a morbid nous to bleed | |
| Chiselling out seething words | |
| Which cut deep down to the bone | |
| Always legible | |
| So be it on our own headstone | |
| Rising to out own nadir | |
| Reality we try to extirpate | |
| Trying to raise a twisted smile | |
| Similar to that silver plate | |
| On a coffin which is joined | |
| Hammering in each final nail | |
| Last kill and testament | |
| Left now intestate | |
| Noxious, sully dolour | |
| Is not the thesis which is bled | |
| A precarious train of thought | |
| In which mental cattletrucks are led | |
| Carving out skilful words | |
| Which shear brittle bones | |
| Always spelt out well | |
| We just can' t leave the dead alone | |
| Monographic text | |
| A terminal doctrine of diseased minds perplexed | |
| Enunciated epigrams | |
| Eschatological, rotten requiems | |
| Always our own worst cynics | |
| Exorcisers of scorching scorn | |
| Digging our own graves | |
| But never stand over and mourn | |
| The roulade now pandemonium | |
| Displaced in the muggy sods | |
| Espoused with the macabre | |
| The dead we filch and rob | |
| Munificant bale | |
| From the deviants staid | |
| Execrations, taunting spiritual release | |
| Exoneration, upon the perishable we feast | |
| Excogitation, picking at the bones of convention | |
| Exculpitation, foul verbal conflagration | |
| Epigraphic text, a literary vex | |
| The macabre perplexed, with corporeality meshed | |
| Euthenic text | |
| An unpleasant journey to a world perplexed | |
| Corporeal epigraphs | |
| Eschatological unpleasantness | |
| Always forever cryptic | |
| Exercisers of twisted grief | |
| Helping you to dig up the interred | |
| Whilst fresh still are the wreaths | |
| The harmony now pandemonium | |
| Heard out in the muddy dirt | |
| Espoused with the bizzare | |
| We play on our own turf | |
| Epithetic text | |
| A macabre rality perplexed | |
| Execrations, literary tales of atrocities fairy | |
| Exoneration, harsh, cold bloody marys | |
| Excogitation, a narcissistic eutechnique | |
| Exculpitation, perverse artworks, so unique | |
| Monographic text, a literary vex | |
| The macabre perplexed with reality meshed |
| zuò cí : Owen, Walker | |
| That' s why | |
| I find it so amusing | |
| That the Latterday | |
| Saints of our business | |
| One, attribute to me motives that just weren' t there | |
| And two accuse me of corrupting morality | |
| Which I wish | |
| I had the power to do, prepare to die | |
| An encloaking, dark epoch | |
| In which all life is now appraised | |
| Another valueless commodity | |
| On which the paracious may feebly graze | |
| Indebted homage to their mammon | |
| Whilst the mort is the music of the meek | |
| Transcendence from a beatifully brutal reality | |
| Is what I seek | |
| Noxious, sully dolour | |
| Is not the sentiment upon which we feed | |
| But precocious consciousness | |
| Draws out a morbid nous to bleed | |
| Chiselling out seething words | |
| Which cut deep down to the bone | |
| Always legible | |
| So be it on our own headstone | |
| Rising to out own nadir | |
| Reality we try to extirpate | |
| Trying to raise a twisted smile | |
| Similar to that silver plate | |
| On a coffin which is joined | |
| Hammering in each final nail | |
| Last kill and testament | |
| Left now intestate | |
| Noxious, sully dolour | |
| Is not the thesis which is bled | |
| A precarious train of thought | |
| In which mental cattletrucks are led | |
| Carving out skilful words | |
| Which shear brittle bones | |
| Always spelt out well | |
| We just can' t leave the dead alone | |
| Monographic text | |
| A terminal doctrine of diseased minds perplexed | |
| Enunciated epigrams | |
| Eschatological, rotten requiems | |
| Always our own worst cynics | |
| Exorcisers of scorching scorn | |
| Digging our own graves | |
| But never stand over and mourn | |
| The roulade now pandemonium | |
| Displaced in the muggy sods | |
| Espoused with the macabre | |
| The dead we filch and rob | |
| Munificant bale | |
| From the deviants staid | |
| Execrations, taunting spiritual release | |
| Exoneration, upon the perishable we feast | |
| Excogitation, picking at the bones of convention | |
| Exculpitation, foul verbal conflagration | |
| Epigraphic text, a literary vex | |
| The macabre perplexed, with corporeality meshed | |
| Euthenic text | |
| An unpleasant journey to a world perplexed | |
| Corporeal epigraphs | |
| Eschatological unpleasantness | |
| Always forever cryptic | |
| Exercisers of twisted grief | |
| Helping you to dig up the interred | |
| Whilst fresh still are the wreaths | |
| The harmony now pandemonium | |
| Heard out in the muddy dirt | |
| Espoused with the bizzare | |
| We play on our own turf | |
| Epithetic text | |
| A macabre rality perplexed | |
| Execrations, literary tales of atrocities fairy | |
| Exoneration, harsh, cold bloody marys | |
| Excogitation, a narcissistic eutechnique | |
| Exculpitation, perverse artworks, so unique | |
| Monographic text, a literary vex | |
| The macabre perplexed with reality meshed |
| [00:00.00] | “为什么我觉得我们末世圣徒的**特别有趣呢？ |
| [00:07.30] | 第一，归因于我做事情毫无动机 |
| [00:09.73] | 第二、控告我败坏道德，甚至我都没有能力去败坏道德 |
| [00:17.01] | 准备***。” |
| [00:54.34] | 一个封闭、黑暗的时代 |
| [00:55.81] | 所有生命都待价而沽的时代 |
| [00:57.45] | 另一个没有价值的商品 |
| [00:58.76] | 却被弱者无力地啃食 |
| [01:00.25] | 负债者效忠于永恒的贪欲 |
| [01:01.43] | 而死亡是逆来顺受的悲歌 |
| [01:02.93] | 超越这个美丽而残酷的现实 |
| [01:05.63] | 是我永远的追求... |
| [01:06.76] | 败坏的，耻辱的悲哀 |
| [01:07.56] | 难道不是我们所依赖的感情吗 |
| [01:08.74] | 但那早熟的思想觉悟 |
| [01:10.01] | 却导致一个血腥扭曲的灵魂 |
| [01:11.69] | 凿刻出振聋发聩的话语 |
| [01:13.09] | 句句入骨 |
| [01:14.57] | 永远清晰 |
| [01:16.04] | 所以，让它刻在我们的墓碑上... |
| [01:29.59] | 走出低谷 |
| [01:30.95] | 消灭现实 |
| [01:32.41] | 尽力扭曲地微笑 |
| [01:34.07] | 像那银色餐具 |
| [01:35.53] | 打好的棺材 |
| [01:36.80] | 钉上最后几根钉 |
| [01:38.25] | 最后的**和遗嘱 |
| [01:39.95] | 却是一纸空文 |
| [01:41.52] | 败坏的，耻辱的悲哀 |
| [01:42.73] | 难道不是流血的命题吗 |
| [01:44.33] | 那层出不穷的危险想法 |
| [01:45.88] | 在精神的运畜车中被指引着 |
| [01:47.40] | 雕刻出字字珠玑的话语 |
| [01:48.87] | 扫尽骨气 |
| [01:50.30] | 永远精妙 |
| [01:51.80] | 我们就是不能抛弃死者... |
| [01:55.91] | 专业精妙的文字 |
| [01:57.30] | 是那让人迷惑的病态思想的终极学说 |
| [02:01.45] | 警世箴言 |
| [02:02.92] | 末世的腐烂安魂曲 |
| [02:05.72] | 永远是我们自己，卑劣的愤世嫉俗者 |
| [02:07.78] | 妄图驱散那些尖锐的批判 |
| [02:09.63] | 自掘坟墓 |
| [02:10.86] | 绝不要徘徊哀悼 |
| [02:11.69] | 美好的讴歌变得混乱不堪 |
| [02:13.05] | 在潮湿的土地上流离失所 |
| [02:14.41] | 信奉永恒的死亡主题 |
| [02:15.96] | 偷窃抢夺已故之人... |
| [02:20.04] | 慷慨的灾祸... |
| [02:25.05] | 源自变态的沉着... |
| [02:44.70] | 诅咒——嘲弄精神的解脱 |
| [02:49.33] | 免罪——在这腐坏的盛宴 |
| [02:54.04] | 谋划——挖出守旧的骨肉 |
| [02:58.91] | 开脱——肮脏的言语冲突 |
| [03:06.23] | 碑文，文学的烦恼 |
| [03:11.68] | 这让人困惑的死亡主题，与**永不分离 |
| [03:42.83] | 讴歌人类的文字 |
| [03:44.04] | 不快的旅程，通往困惑的世界 |
| [03:48.25] | **的铭文 |
| [03:49.73] | 末世的不悦 |
| [03:51.60] | 永远的神秘性 |
| [03:53.65] | 炼就了扭曲的悲痛 |
| [03:55.31] | 帮助你挖掘坟墓 |
| [03:56.97] | **还被花圈簇拥 |
| [03:58.39] | 和谐的场景变得混乱不堪 |
| [03:59.55] | 从泥泞的尘土中欣赏 |
| [04:01.23] | 信奉怪异和反常 |
| [04:02.56] | 我们在自己的领地上演奏... |
| [04:06.77] | 取代本体的文字 |
| [04:11.93] | 多么令人困惑的死亡信条... |
| [04:31.28] | 诅咒——虚构暴行的文学 |
| [04:35.83] | 免罪——冷酷的血腥玛丽 |
| [04:40.58] | 谋划——自我陶醉的讴歌 |
| [04:45.43] | 开脱——独特的反常艺术 |
| [04:52.62] | 专业性文字，文学的烦忧 |
| [04:57.89] | 这让人困惑的死亡主题，与真实永不分离 |
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