Exhumed - Grotesqueries Lyrics
All the world's indeed a corpse, and we are merely maggotsDead on arrival is our only course, and if the toe fits, tag itSycophants, we're writhing blind, feeding off each others' regurgitationDisgorging whatever waste we find, breeding our degradation with eachexhalation...Lambs to the slaughterFeast of fools upon the fodderNo trompe l'oreil to beholdJust a wretched drama to unfold...Gnarled within this mortal coilWithin which the voracious feebly toilEnamored of our own diseaseWe revel in our own grotesqueries...Dissecting ourselves to find nothing aliveJust a mass of perversely animated piecesNothing within worthwhile to reviveWe're mired knee-deep in our own fetid fecesGorging our gnawing jaws with our own pathological wasteLike grubs wriggling in the rank feast of decayWe grind our own bones into dust each futile step we takeAs we inch unseeing through day after day...Consumer or consumedWe all end up as chyme and grumeUpon the fetid mass we chokeLeaving us in no position to appreciate the sick joke...Twisted through this mortal coilNow our unctuous desserts are brought to a boilSomewhere between the living and the deceasedWe gag on the feast of our grotesqueries...[Lead - Mike]Too consumed by consumption to see our own endsWe're all dead and only getting deaderDigging our own graves into which we gladly descendIn this cold coil we're shackled and fetteredAs we ingest each others' waste, in a frenzied feeding rushLeaving everything sick and dead in our wakeDevouring each other in ravening, unheeding crushAs we gorge ourselves on all the tripe and offal we can intake...-a
