Grotesqueries Lyrics
| Song | Grotesqueries |
| Artist | Exhumed |
| Album | Anatomy Is Destiny |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Matt, Mike | |
| All the world's indeed a corpse, and we are merely maggots | |
| Dead on arrival is our only course, and if the toe fits, tag it | |
| Sycophants, we're writhing blind, feeding off each others' regurgitation | |
| Disgorging whatever waste we find, breeding our degradation with each exhalation... | |
| Lambs to the slaughter | |
| Feast of fools upon the fodder | |
| No trompe l'oreil to behold | |
| Just a wretched drama to unfold... | |
| Gnarled within this mortal coil | |
| Within which the voracious feebly toil | |
| Enamored of our own disease | |
| We revel in our own grotesqueries... | |
| Dissecting ourselves to find nothing alive | |
| Just a mass of perversely animated pieces | |
| Nothing within worthwhile to revive | |
| We're mired knee-deep in our own fetid feces | |
| Gorging our gnawing jaws with our own pathological waste | |
| Like grubs wriggling in the rank feast of decay | |
| We grind our own bones into dust each futile step we take | |
| As we inch unseeing through day after day... | |
| Consumer or consumed | |
| We all end up as chyme and grume | |
| Upon the fetid mass we choke | |
| Leaving us in no position to appreciate the sick joke... | |
| Twisted through this mortal coil | |
| Now our unctuous desserts are brought to a boil | |
| Somewhere between the living and the deceased | |
| We gag on the feast of our grotesqueries... [Lead - Mike] | |
| Too consumed by consumption to see our own ends | |
| We're all dead and only getting deader | |
| Digging our own graves into which we gladly descend | |
| In this cold coil we're shackled and fettered | |
| As we ingest each others' waste, in a frenzied feeding rush | |
| Leaving everything sick and dead in our wake | |
| Devouring each other in ravening, unheeding crush | |
| As we gorge ourselves on all the tripe and offal we can intake... | |
| Crass menagerie | |
| Eschatological estuary | |
| We create each others' atrocities | |
| In this grotesquery | |
| Asphyxiated by this mortal coil | |
| Reaping rancid fruits long since despoiled | |
| Until our depraved lives at last surcease | |
| We'll hunger for more grotesqueries... |
| zuo qu : Matt, Mike | |
| All the world' s indeed a corpse, and we are merely maggots | |
| Dead on arrival is our only course, and if the toe fits, tag it | |
| Sycophants, we' re writhing blind, feeding off each others' regurgitation | |
| Disgorging whatever waste we find, breeding our degradation with each exhalation... | |
| Lambs to the slaughter | |
| Feast of fools upon the fodder | |
| No trompe l' oreil to behold | |
| Just a wretched drama to unfold... | |
| Gnarled within this mortal coil | |
| Within which the voracious feebly toil | |
| Enamored of our own disease | |
| We revel in our own grotesqueries... | |
| Dissecting ourselves to find nothing alive | |
| Just a mass of perversely animated pieces | |
| Nothing within worthwhile to revive | |
| We' re mired kneedeep in our own fetid feces | |
| Gorging our gnawing jaws with our own pathological waste | |
| Like grubs wriggling in the rank feast of decay | |
| We grind our own bones into dust each futile step we take | |
| As we inch unseeing through day after day... | |
| Consumer or consumed | |
| We all end up as chyme and grume | |
| Upon the fetid mass we choke | |
| Leaving us in no position to appreciate the sick joke... | |
| Twisted through this mortal coil | |
| Now our unctuous desserts are brought to a boil | |
| Somewhere between the living and the deceased | |
| We gag on the feast of our grotesqueries... Lead Mike | |
| Too consumed by consumption to see our own ends | |
| We' re all dead and only getting deader | |
| Digging our own graves into which we gladly descend | |
| In this cold coil we' re shackled and fettered | |
| As we ingest each others' waste, in a frenzied feeding rush | |
| Leaving everything sick and dead in our wake | |
| Devouring each other in ravening, unheeding crush | |
| As we gorge ourselves on all the tripe and offal we can intake... | |
| Crass menagerie | |
| Eschatological estuary | |
| We create each others' atrocities | |
| In this grotesquery | |
| Asphyxiated by this mortal coil | |
| Reaping rancid fruits long since despoiled | |
| Until our depraved lives at last surcease | |
| We' ll hunger for more grotesqueries... |
| zuò qǔ : Matt, Mike | |
| All the world' s indeed a corpse, and we are merely maggots | |
| Dead on arrival is our only course, and if the toe fits, tag it | |
| Sycophants, we' re writhing blind, feeding off each others' regurgitation | |
| Disgorging whatever waste we find, breeding our degradation with each exhalation... | |
| Lambs to the slaughter | |
| Feast of fools upon the fodder | |
| No trompe l' oreil to behold | |
| Just a wretched drama to unfold... | |
| Gnarled within this mortal coil | |
| Within which the voracious feebly toil | |
| Enamored of our own disease | |
| We revel in our own grotesqueries... | |
| Dissecting ourselves to find nothing alive | |
| Just a mass of perversely animated pieces | |
| Nothing within worthwhile to revive | |
| We' re mired kneedeep in our own fetid feces | |
| Gorging our gnawing jaws with our own pathological waste | |
| Like grubs wriggling in the rank feast of decay | |
| We grind our own bones into dust each futile step we take | |
| As we inch unseeing through day after day... | |
| Consumer or consumed | |
| We all end up as chyme and grume | |
| Upon the fetid mass we choke | |
| Leaving us in no position to appreciate the sick joke... | |
| Twisted through this mortal coil | |
| Now our unctuous desserts are brought to a boil | |
| Somewhere between the living and the deceased | |
| We gag on the feast of our grotesqueries... Lead Mike | |
| Too consumed by consumption to see our own ends | |
| We' re all dead and only getting deader | |
| Digging our own graves into which we gladly descend | |
| In this cold coil we' re shackled and fettered | |
| As we ingest each others' waste, in a frenzied feeding rush | |
| Leaving everything sick and dead in our wake | |
| Devouring each other in ravening, unheeding crush | |
| As we gorge ourselves on all the tripe and offal we can intake... | |
| Crass menagerie | |
| Eschatological estuary | |
| We create each others' atrocities | |
| In this grotesquery | |
| Asphyxiated by this mortal coil | |
| Reaping rancid fruits long since despoiled | |
| Until our depraved lives at last surcease | |
| We' ll hunger for more grotesqueries... |
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