General Surgery

Decomposer

General Surgery


Are we lying comfortably? 
I hope that you fear not 
Your stay here shall be lengthy 
Depending on just how quickly you rot 

Apply a quicklime mudpack 
Hinder circulation 
Artificially inflicted gangrene 
Hasten the maceration 

Rendered impeccably clean 
Stripped to the ivory core 
The cleansing of your fetid flesh 
Revealing the divine gleam of bone 

Strings of muscle tissue 
Yanked away with ease 
Luckily I removed your tongue 
I'm distracted by agonized screams 

It probably won't hurt too much 
The sedatives will bear you through 
The pain eventually subsides 
When your nerve ends turn to goo 

Bound to be gored 
Intravenously fed 
Destined to rot 
Your skin to be shed 

Trimming off loose sinew 
Your appearance is still a mess 
My psychopedantic maniacal glee 
Matches your distress 

Cleanliness is godliness 
Unbound by rank decay 
I admire your skeletal remains 
As I hose your fetid carrion down the drain