Symposium Of Sickness Lyrics - Necroticism - Descanting The Insalubrious - Carcass

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