Carnal Epitaph 歌词
| 歌曲 | Carnal Epitaph |
| 歌手 | Exhumed |
| 专辑 | Slaughtercult |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Harvey | |
| I scrawled an ode to this mortal coil | |
| In scarlet upon your back | |
| I gnarled in code with dreadful toil | |
| A parting verse so black... | |
| Ivory skin streched out before me | |
| In frozen fields of pallid grace | |
| Livid eyes rolled back and silently implored me | |
| From out of your jaundiced face | |
| Carving in crimson with scalpel and rasp | |
| Sculpturing your flesh into your epitaph | |
| Your corpse tells its tale in blood, pus and grume | |
| Spilling out secrets you should take to your tomb | |
| A carnal epitaph perhaps best left unheard | |
| The time has come to mince more than words | |
| Parting words don`t often cut this deep | |
| Engraved on your back, the secrets we`ll keep | |
| Though you`ll never read these empty words | |
| Upon the slab you lie so still | |
| They don`t cut as deep as you deserve | |
| Poetic licence to hack, maim, and kill... | |
| The porcelain flesh that enshrouds you remains | |
| Were both my parchment and my muse | |
| Now incarnadined hand | |
| I penned these lines | |
| As best I could well manage | |
| I cruelly carved out these designs | |
| What words are worth in tissue damage... | |
| Carving in crimson with scalpel and rasp | |
| Sculpturing your flesh into your epitaph | |
| Your corpse tells its tale in blood, pus and grume | |
| Spilling out secrets you should take to your tomb | |
| A carnal epitaph perhaps best left unheard | |
| The time has come to mince more than words | |
| Parting words don`t often cut this deep | |
| Engraved on your back, the secrets we`ll keep... |
| zuo qu : Harvey | |
| I scrawled an ode to this mortal coil | |
| In scarlet upon your back | |
| I gnarled in code with dreadful toil | |
| A parting verse so black... | |
| Ivory skin streched out before me | |
| In frozen fields of pallid grace | |
| Livid eyes rolled back and silently implored me | |
| From out of your jaundiced face | |
| Carving in crimson with scalpel and rasp | |
| Sculpturing your flesh into your epitaph | |
| Your corpse tells its tale in blood, pus and grume | |
| Spilling out secrets you should take to your tomb | |
| A carnal epitaph perhaps best left unheard | |
| The time has come to mince more than words | |
| Parting words don t often cut this deep | |
| Engraved on your back, the secrets we ll keep | |
| Though you ll never read these empty words | |
| Upon the slab you lie so still | |
| They don t cut as deep as you deserve | |
| Poetic licence to hack, maim, and kill... | |
| The porcelain flesh that enshrouds you remains | |
| Were both my parchment and my muse | |
| Now incarnadined hand | |
| I penned these lines | |
| As best I could well manage | |
| I cruelly carved out these designs | |
| What words are worth in tissue damage... | |
| Carving in crimson with scalpel and rasp | |
| Sculpturing your flesh into your epitaph | |
| Your corpse tells its tale in blood, pus and grume | |
| Spilling out secrets you should take to your tomb | |
| A carnal epitaph perhaps best left unheard | |
| The time has come to mince more than words | |
| Parting words don t often cut this deep | |
| Engraved on your back, the secrets we ll keep... |
| zuò qǔ : Harvey | |
| I scrawled an ode to this mortal coil | |
| In scarlet upon your back | |
| I gnarled in code with dreadful toil | |
| A parting verse so black... | |
| Ivory skin streched out before me | |
| In frozen fields of pallid grace | |
| Livid eyes rolled back and silently implored me | |
| From out of your jaundiced face | |
| Carving in crimson with scalpel and rasp | |
| Sculpturing your flesh into your epitaph | |
| Your corpse tells its tale in blood, pus and grume | |
| Spilling out secrets you should take to your tomb | |
| A carnal epitaph perhaps best left unheard | |
| The time has come to mince more than words | |
| Parting words don t often cut this deep | |
| Engraved on your back, the secrets we ll keep | |
| Though you ll never read these empty words | |
| Upon the slab you lie so still | |
| They don t cut as deep as you deserve | |
| Poetic licence to hack, maim, and kill... | |
| The porcelain flesh that enshrouds you remains | |
| Were both my parchment and my muse | |
| Now incarnadined hand | |
| I penned these lines | |
| As best I could well manage | |
| I cruelly carved out these designs | |
| What words are worth in tissue damage... | |
| Carving in crimson with scalpel and rasp | |
| Sculpturing your flesh into your epitaph | |
| Your corpse tells its tale in blood, pus and grume | |
| Spilling out secrets you should take to your tomb | |
| A carnal epitaph perhaps best left unheard | |
| The time has come to mince more than words | |
| Parting words don t often cut this deep | |
| Engraved on your back, the secrets we ll keep... |
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