Luyện nghe bài hát Consuming Impulse

Your dry throat creaks without a saliva to
As your dehydrated tongue soundlessly threshes
Days without sustenance spent and fettered
Emaciated torso aches for the warm taste of

I will a meal of you, your hunger I'll sate
Saw off your leg at the knee to put on your plate
Try not to wince at the that you feel
As I mince up your calf to prepare your next

Cauterize the gargled wound to stave off the
You should savor the thought of repast
Choke down this bitter in spite of your revulsion
how long can your source of food last?

Keeping yourself as you're force-fed your own flesh
If you don't eat up, you're truly meat
Legs turned to stumps, drinks gargled in clumps
In this you really are what you eat

Autophagous
pathology, dietary butchery
Consuming
Ingest your to be

Quadriplegic you feed as your dinner is
Waste not ; not, though there's not much to conserve
Severed and severely upon a platter of splatter
After a while the source of the barely even matters

Now a half-eaten torso gorged to the
Piece by piece you are fed the chicest
As the rings your bloody chops are feverishly licked
At the of your own roasted fat turned and browned on a spit

Your own meat in your mouth tastes bitter and
and moist, you get a taste of your own medicine
Gnashing, pieces of your limbs with
Digesting death with each grotesque bloody bite

eating you? The question seems to moot
Scraping chunks of your out of your blood-soaked sopping boot
Bash open bones picked clean to at the marrow
As culinary milieu of options inexorably narrows

gluttony
Culinary pathology, butchery
Consuming
your corpse to be

Feeding time again, the thorax falls victim to this slaughter
Blood, pus and replace wine, whiskey and water
survival will cost you an arm and a leg
Your running, red with bits of reeking bloody dregs

your own genitals, choke on your bludgeoned testicles
With a that will not be denied
The sweetest of meats is your soft, teats
That I'll be stuffing your face tonight

Puking up own skin, just to devour it again
Is a treat save for dessert
Fresh meat for your lunch, fibula cracked, and crunched
As your overstuffed gasps and blurts

Your crudely resected is a wretched grisly sight
But your stumps once arms just whet appetite
Nibbling at the sinews of your forearms and wrists ravenously
Devouring your shredded in fleshly chunks and meaty bits

yourself to gnaw at your own intestines
Bones from severed fingers facilitate this haphazard
Clutch at grume inside your bowels with half-eaten stumps
Pulling out the meal in grotesque tumescent clumps

Remaining fingers prying off your succulent gouged out
Gnaw at your stringy cheek and masticate your insatiable tongue
But the you ingest in carnivorous abandon
Fall out of the gaping that you have torn in intestines

Gnash the meat from your avulsed in a frenzied rush
No genitals, no feet, no legs, no left uncrushed
tongue oozes spittle down your face, your hunger
Undiminished, only when your partially devoured
Prolapse will this meal at be finished

gluttony
Culinary pathology, dietary
impulse
Excrete your to be