Exhumed

[Musick - Mike Beams, Lyrixxx - Matt Harvey]
All the world's indeed a corpse, and we are merely maggots
Dead on arrival is our only course, and if the toe fits, tag it
Sycophants, we're writhing blind, feeding off each others' regurgitation
Disgorging whatever waste we find, breeding our degradation with each
exhalation...
Lambs to the slaughter
Feast of fools upon the fodder
No trompe l'oreil to behold
Just a wretched drama to unfold...
Gnarled within this mortal coil
Within which the voracious feebly toil
Enamored of our own disease
We revel in our own grotesqueries...
Dissecting ourselves to find nothing alive
Just a mass of perversely animated pieces
Nothing within worthwhile to revive
We're mired knee-deep in our own fetid feces
Gorging our gnawing jaws with our own pathological waste
Like grubs wriggling in the rank feast of decay
We grind our own bones into dust each futile step we take
As we inch unseeing through day after day...
Consumer or consumed
We all end up as chyme and grume