歌曲 | Nativity Obscene - A Nursery Chyme |
歌手 | Exhumed |
专辑 | Anatomy Is Destiny |
作曲 : Matt | |
Calcified infant is a breach birth debacle | |
Natal necrolysis, destined for a formaldehyde-filled bottle | |
Caesarean section reveals the ghastly tot | |
An ossified infant, in its womb borne to rot | |
Livid and stiff ere its first breath is claimed | |
The rigid bundle of joy, catatonically maimed | |
Cold, dead and hard as it's exhumed from the womb | |
The uterus its cradle, and its moist fetid tomb... | |
Only scalpels left for playthings | |
Swaddling clothes bloody but not from chafing | |
Baptism by embalming solution | |
As the trocar facilities the cold blood's dilution... | |
Festered fetus drawn from the cavity in which it was conceived | |
Birth and death now unified, as the grotesque infant is retrieved | |
Livid osteopedion, breathless lungs still, cold and dry | |
Birth is just a forensic folly when in being born one dies | |
Birth and death in one fell breath, extract the corpse from her guts | |
The morbid birthing cavity is lavaged, torn and cut | |
Another tiny life that ended before it could begin | |
Another piece of human offal, to end up in the rubbish bin... | |
Neither gurgles nor cries escape its lifeless blue lips | |
Placenta disgorges amniotic fluid as the umbilical cord rips | |
Morbid nursery chymes fall on deaf little ears | |
As the dry-eyed infant incites parents to bitter tears... | |
Obstetric atrocity | |
With a casket for a crib | |
Nursery for an autopsy | |
Body bag for a bib... | |
Hush little baby, don't say a word | |
Mama's going to have to get a casket reserved | |
But if your body is too decomposed | |
The coffin door will have to stay closed | |
A babe in her arms | |
Not safe from harm | |
When the water breaks, the cradle will rot | |
A nursery chyme with no happy ending, left in the wastebasket, dead and forgot... | |
Another corpse to carve for pathologists and their ilk | |
Nursed on embalming fluid, no use crying over silt mother's milk | |
Silent baby rattles stilled | |
The doctor's gloved hands deliver the babe into a grave that now is filled | |
Morbid anatomy technicians are the child's only playmates | |
Callously dissecting, the infantile inanimate | |
A bloodied dissecting table serves as the young one's tomb and trundle | |
As inquisitive butchery, splays this joyless rotten bundle... | |
Dead before ever being alive to die | |
Eyes closed forever ere the first tear could dry | |
Mouth sealed by rigor mortis before the first newborn cry | |
Dissected infant on the table, dead-cut and dry... | |
Newborn fatality | |
Whose playpen is a slab | |
Lifeless nativity | |
Diminutive toes to be tagged... | |
Now I lay you down to sleep | |
Your putrid flesh not long to keep | |
If you should rot before you wake | |
Then leave your corpse for the worms to take | |
In the cold corridors in the sterile, dead morgue | |
Sobs are heard from the maternity ward | |
But from the mouth of babes, no sound escapes | |
In this nativity obscene behind mortuary drapes... |
zuò qǔ : Matt | |
Calcified infant is a breach birth debacle | |
Natal necrolysis, destined for a formaldehydefilled bottle | |
Caesarean section reveals the ghastly tot | |
An ossified infant, in its womb borne to rot | |
Livid and stiff ere its first breath is claimed | |
The rigid bundle of joy, catatonically maimed | |
Cold, dead and hard as it' s exhumed from the womb | |
The uterus its cradle, and its moist fetid tomb... | |
Only scalpels left for playthings | |
Swaddling clothes bloody but not from chafing | |
Baptism by embalming solution | |
As the trocar facilities the cold blood' s dilution... | |
Festered fetus drawn from the cavity in which it was conceived | |
Birth and death now unified, as the grotesque infant is retrieved | |
Livid osteopedion, breathless lungs still, cold and dry | |
Birth is just a forensic folly when in being born one dies | |
Birth and death in one fell breath, extract the corpse from her guts | |
The morbid birthing cavity is lavaged, torn and cut | |
Another tiny life that ended before it could begin | |
Another piece of human offal, to end up in the rubbish bin... | |
Neither gurgles nor cries escape its lifeless blue lips | |
Placenta disgorges amniotic fluid as the umbilical cord rips | |
Morbid nursery chymes fall on deaf little ears | |
As the dryeyed infant incites parents to bitter tears... | |
Obstetric atrocity | |
With a casket for a crib | |
Nursery for an autopsy | |
Body bag for a bib... | |
Hush little baby, don' t say a word | |
Mama' s going to have to get a casket reserved | |
But if your body is too decomposed | |
The coffin door will have to stay closed | |
A babe in her arms | |
Not safe from harm | |
When the water breaks, the cradle will rot | |
A nursery chyme with no happy ending, left in the wastebasket, dead and forgot... | |
Another corpse to carve for pathologists and their ilk | |
Nursed on embalming fluid, no use crying over silt mother' s milk | |
Silent baby rattles stilled | |
The doctor' s gloved hands deliver the babe into a grave that now is filled | |
Morbid anatomy technicians are the child' s only playmates | |
Callously dissecting, the infantile inanimate | |
A bloodied dissecting table serves as the young one' s tomb and trundle | |
As inquisitive butchery, splays this joyless rotten bundle... | |
Dead before ever being alive to die | |
Eyes closed forever ere the first tear could dry | |
Mouth sealed by rigor mortis before the first newborn cry | |
Dissected infant on the table, deadcut and dry... | |
Newborn fatality | |
Whose playpen is a slab | |
Lifeless nativity | |
Diminutive toes to be tagged... | |
Now I lay you down to sleep | |
Your putrid flesh not long to keep | |
If you should rot before you wake | |
Then leave your corpse for the worms to take | |
In the cold corridors in the sterile, dead morgue | |
Sobs are heard from the maternity ward | |
But from the mouth of babes, no sound escapes | |
In this nativity obscene behind mortuary drapes... |