In My Human Slaughterhouse (live)

By night I return to the storage shed Anxious to catch a glimpse of the dead Nervously, I unbolt the door Making my way into this abatoir Hot air rushes out the aperture A putrid gust of flattus and methane Inhaling the rotting fumes as I choke Hit by a wave of nausea I try to restrain At last I regard the bloated stiffs Terribly dislimbed and deceased My plumpened prizes now swollen by putrefaction A makeshift mortuary for the obese Their corpulence exceeded solely By the foulness of their smell Their girth only expanded upon in death The fleshy carcasses bloat and swell Lead - Matt Postmortem hypertrophy plagues the hefty cadavers Their portly bodies now thoroughly dead The incessant buzzing of insects as necrovores slaver Fills the tepid chamber whose walls I've stained red I hacked through their layers of blubbering fat Some were gutted, some punctured, some razed When I finished I found them decidedly flat, If not yet dead, then at least bleeding and dazed In this dingy shack I had left them to rot And then departed the undignified scene The makeshift crypt they inhabit now fetid and hot The curdling innards turned a sickly shade of green