Last Supper (The Autophagous) — текст песни (Lord Gore)





Rotting away, by myself in this cage.
I`m forgotten by time, I`ve lost track of how long it`s been.
Guts churn with cramps, have not eaten for days.
Look upon my own flesh, with disgust as I salivate.

I`ve survived for days on my own shit, urine and blood.
Nothing left to consume.
There is no course of action left for me I fear.
Let the Final Supper begin.

Sickening pain, teeth tearing thru skin,
the crunching of fat, muscle, sinew now shredded meat.
This makes me sick, rancid gorge fills my throat,
but I swallow it down, mustn`t waste this last meal.

Now frenzy has begun, masticating my own tongue,
I`m choking, laughing at my own futility.
Tear my scalp and wolf it down, hair tickling in my throat
causing me to gag and disgorge it painfully.

What next to eat? I grope between my thighs
and I scream as I rip at my own turgid appendage.
Ah but it`s sweet! The taste of bitter sperm;
my foul fetid reek, a bouquet for the banquet.

Fluids draining, vitals waning, frenzied in this hell sustaining
teeth red scything, maxillating, a feast of self mutilation.

Now for dessert, I`ll extricate my eyes, pop them in my mouth
still attached to the nerves.
Bursting as I bite, my brain overloads.
The pain sends my body into shock and then I die.

Consumption... Be Done.



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