Epicurean pathology
Shattered gross anatomy
Bodily fluids, foul and septic
I sing the body decrepit
Your funeral, my feast
You'll never rest in peace
Tagged, sectioned then slabbed
Slurp fluids from your body bag
Repulsive, jaundiced flesh
The stomach turning sight that I love best
Necrosis setting in
Discolored, rotting, mottled skin
The weevils writhe and squirm
Your torso now alive with worms
As organs liquefy
I whet my abhorrent appetite
Your funeral, my feast
A masterstroke of rotting meat
My dinner table's where you rest in piece
Your funeral, my feast
Gruesome garnish, moist carnage
Raw bits of human garbage
The chunks seep, they won't keep
Gnashing through as each piece bleeds
Your decay, my entrée
I wouldn't have it any other way
Maggot millet, stuffs your gullet
To please my most deranged of palettes
Splenetic, ghastly taste
The stinking savor of pathological waste
Trypsin' and pepsin marinate
The loathsome bowels I masticate
To dine upon this foul concoction
Requires a taste for extreme unction
But for those who have the stomach
We sate our hunger on tripe and vomit
Your funeral, my feast
A masterstroke of rotting meat
My dinner table's where you rest in piece
Your funeral, my feast
Your funeral, my feast
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