Spirits Of The Dead - Impaled

Your ribcage is avulsed,

Mangled, chopped, and hewn,

Organ meats have been sundered,

And about your coffin strewn,

Latent germs deliquesce your guts,

Fermenting your simmering brine,

Upon this loathsome, steaming mass,

I’m predisposed to dine.

Dehydrated liver is quenched with grog,

in a gurgulating froth, dissolved,

In purulence ruptured, your bowel has turned septic,

Your innards are now devolved.

Intestines turn to slush,

Vitriolic mush,

Inebriating fumes, mind altering effluvium,

An intoxicating funeral binge on post-digestive chum,

Carbonated gastric stew,

Excreted, distilled, and imbibed,

A nidorous concoction fermented to proof,

The dead I tap, siphon, and grind

(Solo: «Dead drunk» by S.C. McGrath)

(Solo: «Consumption of inebriates and subsequent goggles of alcoholic deception»

by L.d.

Muerte)

(Solo: «The siphoning of liquescent dead tissue for use in the fermentation of

grain alchohol, and the consumption thereof» by S.C. McGrath)

(Solo: «A porcelain visitation» by L.d. Muerte")

Spirits of the dead,

Sip the rotting head,

Repulsively Imbued,

With Necroholic Brew…