The Butcher's Art

Lain down on the executiontable
Whole extended and cracked
Exposed fearfull and alleviate body
Considerable pain up to the last

Terrified reversed and hanged
Stretched flesh of my back
By the hooks beside my spine
A mass of warm blood
Decreases to my head
Starting to realise
When he starts
When he starts
I'm dead

I am the disturbed one himself, the butcher
separating the bones with my saw, broken limbs
Redefining the shape of your carcass, mutilated
Dissecting and collecting every organ, empty inside

The interrupting of your digestions system
By transpiercing your stomach and organs
Separating your body, torn in two
Mangled guts and blood
suctioned through darkred catheters
Clenched between your festering bowels

I am the corpsesculptor, growing your skeleton
I am the fleshscraper, decomposing your body
I am the dissector, creating with your organs
I am the artist, living from your skin

Peeling the skin from your cold body
To cover my statue with tasty bloody flesh
Performing live cannibalism is an art
Exposing my creations to department homicide

I am the disturbed one himself, the butcher
separating the bones with my saw, broken limbs
Redefining the shape of your carcass, mutilated
Dissecting and collecting every organ, empty inside