| Song | My Mind Bleeds Tragedies |
| Artist | Mortal Decay |
| Album | Forensic |
| 作曲 : Gordon, Hartman, Ipri ... | |
| You never can get used to the smell of burn victims, | |
| Or the sight of a dead child, | |
| So repulsed yet | |
| I can't look away, heads separated, exhumed from twisted wrecks | |
| Sifting through the debris, identifying the bodies, pronounced dead. | |
| Adrenaline rush when screams and cries collide in such perfect harmony, crosses on the roadside symbolize the shattered memories, | |
| I often envision the broken bodies on collision. | |
| The overwhelming pain, their final words, thoughts of loved ones watching them fall dead...satisfies the morbid curiosities | |
| Stimulating the crazed imagination. | |
| Exhilaration, inhaling the stench of incinerated flesh, gut wrenching reality, the goriest of all homicides. | |
| Thirst the blood of suicide, revisiting the crimes sights of nauseating death scenes. | |
| Their brutalized, inanimate images in the morgue fascinate. | |
| Witnessing appalling autopsies, victims of catastrophes crippled and paralyzed, facial lacerations, pieces of the amputated. | |
| Anxious for more when they bleed so viciously | |
| I crave for this world of violence. | |
| When the shrieking intensifies in agonizing surgeries. | |
| Life so sacred, yet defouled with such carelessness my mind bleeds tragedies. |
| zuò qǔ : Gordon, Hartman, Ipri ... | |
| You never can get used to the smell of burn victims, | |
| Or the sight of a dead child, | |
| So repulsed yet | |
| I can' t look away, heads separated, exhumed from twisted wrecks | |
| Sifting through the debris, identifying the bodies, pronounced dead. | |
| Adrenaline rush when screams and cries collide in such perfect harmony, crosses on the roadside symbolize the shattered memories, | |
| I often envision the broken bodies on collision. | |
| The overwhelming pain, their final words, thoughts of loved ones watching them fall dead... satisfies the morbid curiosities | |
| Stimulating the crazed imagination. | |
| Exhilaration, inhaling the stench of incinerated flesh, gut wrenching reality, the goriest of all homicides. | |
| Thirst the blood of suicide, revisiting the crimes sights of nauseating death scenes. | |
| Their brutalized, inanimate images in the morgue fascinate. | |
| Witnessing appalling autopsies, victims of catastrophes crippled and paralyzed, facial lacerations, pieces of the amputated. | |
| Anxious for more when they bleed so viciously | |
| I crave for this world of violence. | |
| When the shrieking intensifies in agonizing surgeries. | |
| Life so sacred, yet defouled with such carelessness my mind bleeds tragedies. |