Luyện nghe bài hát Post-mortem Procedures

In the dissection of and the sawing of bone, I've coaxed confessions
from the of the dead, Postmortem scrutiny that has clinically shone, The
horrifying that would have never been said... Unbosoming their secrets
in the sickening results of their demise, Stomaching these human
riddles, I carve, hack and slice, the dusty skeletons that lurk
in closets, and entrails, Enduring the ghastly visage of violent death
in my travails... Whether in pieces or completely decomposed, I asses
with clinical indifference, The of a life which grisly circumstance
has brought to this office, Ensuring that truth shall after the flesh
has crumbled and rotted away, atrocities and carnage, the
thankless job I day after day... Persistent incisions that cut to the
quick are my stock in trade, To scrutinize remains of a life,
painstaking effort will have to be made, At both evidence and flesh are
profoundly encrypted and shred, It can be murder to pry answers the
mouths of the dead... A gutted can pose a bevy of answerless questions
to deliberate, Probing a scalpel, I expose the morbid cavity that I now
must eviscerate, Unlocking death's mysteries with my forceps, and
saw, Wringing from a fibula, fossa or jaw... Recording
confessions that are uttered without making a sound, From informants dead
that I've culled from the ground, Beneath the veil of cold flesh or
enshrouded in the shredded remains of a face, Exhuming the is my
occupation, no matter how its resting place... Within the bowels of a
horribly mutilated corpse or a splattered brain, apart flesh and
deceit til only the cold facts remain, men will tell tales if you know
how to listen and learn, Even when they've been stabbed, beaten, shot,
up and burned... This morbid quest for is not without its rewards,
Much can be extrapolated a decrepit infants gourd, My bureau's a slab, my
is a corpse, and I've studied with sincere, ardent fervor, And found that
often inhumanity to man is all to well deserved...