Consuming Impulse Lyrics - Exhumed

Your dry throat creaks without a saliva to sputter 

As your pulpy dehydrated tongue soundlessly threshes 

Days without sustenance spent shackled and fettered 

Emaciated torso aches for the warm taste of flesh 

I will make a meal of you, your hunger I'll sate 

Saw off your leg at the knee to put on your dinner plate 

Try not to wince at the pain that you feel 

As I mince up your calf to prepare your next meal 

Cauterize the gargled wound to stave off the hemorrhage 

You should savor the thought of your repast 

Choke down this bitter meal in spite of your revulsion 

Though how long can your source of food last? 

Keeping yourself alive as you're force-fed your own flesh 

If you don't eat up, you're truly dead meat 

Legs turned to stumps, bloody drinks gargled in clumps 

In this case you really are what you eat 

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Autophagous gluttony 

Culinary pathology, dietary butchery 

Consuming impulse 

Ingest your corpse to be 

Quadriplegic you feed as your dinner is served 

Waste not ; want not, though there's not much to conserve 

Severed and severely served upon a platter of splatter 

After a while the source of the sustenance barely even matters 

Now a half-eaten torso gorged to the glut 

Piece by piece you are fed the chicest cuts 

As the dinner-bell rings your bloody chops are feverishly licked 

At the sight of your own roasted fat turned and browned on a spit 

Your own meat in your mouth tastes bitter and internecine 

Noxious and moist, you get a taste of your own medicine 

Gnashing, pieces of your limbs with delight 

Digesting your death with each grotesque bloody bite 

Photos 

What's eating you? The question seems to moot 

Scraping chunks of your feet out of your blood-soaked sopping boot 

Bash open bones picked clean to suckle at the marrow 

As your culinary milieu of options inexorably narrows 

Autophagous gluttony 

Culinary pathology, dietary butchery 

Consuming impulse 

Ingest your corpse to be 

Feeding time comes again, the thorax falls victim to this slaughter 

Blood, pus and sebum replace wine, whiskey and water 

Sometimes survival will cost you an arm and a leg 

Your spittle running, red with bits of reeking bloody dregs 

Masticate your own genitals, choke on your bludgeoned testicles 

With a hunger that will not be denied 

The sweetest of meats is your soft, fatty teats 

That I'll be stuffing your face with tonight 

Puking up your own skin, just to devour it again 

Is a treat you'll save for dessert 

Fresh meat for your lunch, fibula cracked, drained and crunched 

As your overstuffed gullet gasps and blurts 

Your crudely resected anatomy is a wretched grisly sight 

But your stumps once arms just whet your appetite 

Nibbling at the sinews of your bloody forearms and wrists ravenously 

Devouring your shredded survival in fleshly chunks and meaty bits 

Eviscerate yourself to gnaw at your own intestines 

Bones from severed fingers facilitate this haphazard self-dissection 

Clutch at grume inside your bowels with half-eaten grubby stumps 

Pulling out the repugnant meal in grotesque tumescent clumps 

Remaining fingers prying off your succulent gouged out gums 

Gnaw at your stringy cheek lining and masticate your insatiable tongue 

But the pieces you ingest in carnivorous abandon 

Fall out of the gaping that you have torn in your intestines 

Gnash the meat from your avulsed face in a frenzied rush 

No genitals, no feet, no legs, no appendage left uncrushed 

Half-eaten tongue oozes spittle down your face, your hunger 

Undiminished, only when your partially devoured innards 

Prolapse will this meal at last be finished 

Autophagous gluttony 

Culinary pathology, dietary butchery 

Consuming impulse 

Excrete your corpse to be