Impaled - Mondo Medicale lyrics
Tracks 01. The Hippocritic Oath
02. Dead Inside 03. Raise The Stakes 04. Operating Theatre 05. Choke On It 06. We Belong Dead 07. The Worms Crawl In 08. To Die For 09. Rest In Fæces 10. Carpe Mortem 01. The Hippocritic Oath
"Those sick, the afflicted, the injured, the cripple, those wretches no longer able to fend for their own well being... it is these enfeebled masses who have put their trust in the halls of science, who have sewn their faith in the world of medicine.
We surgeons have seen fit to devote our lives to these sad cases, these people whose time has come. We delay the inevitable, attempting to give mankind the strength to withstand death, to live but for a few days more. I say, no more! I say tally no longer on the frail and infirmed. I say, give no more peace to the withered and old. I say, the greatest sickness of all is named "man," and it needs to be excised from the Earth like a boil. I say, kill 'em all." "Rotting carbuncles, fustulating piles of meat... we have to exterminate, exterminate them all!" "Doctor, listen to yourself, you're mad!" "No, you listen, for the first time I am sane." "Is there a doctor in the house?!" 02. Dead Inside Music by Sean McGrath Lyrics by Ross Sewage
The surface teeming with the most noxious infestation of all
Through touring endeavours we will ensure humanity's fall A strain of Yersinia Pestis we've created To our whims bacterial genomes we've mutated A virulent plague coming of age A petri dish culture carefully bred Until all tests subjects were certainly dead Pathogenic properties increased exponentially Unicellular organisms bent on destruction With like motivation were in total conjuction Birth the disease so mankind can cease (to be) Attenuate endospores for the vaccine Self-innoculized and resistance is gleaned With an immune barrier, we're contagious carriers Four vectors parading as an act Amongst congregations who are apt to contract Our sickness to all who witness Epileptogenic sounds on instruments are made While from the pulpit the illness is parlayed Crossing through nations, a patho-migration Airborne infection giving you fever Cephalalgia splits your head like a cleaver The pain crippling as your vomitting Unwarranted paroxysm results from delirium Dipsomania an unforseen symptom Your actions obscene, once you've seen green Epidermal eruptions of pus filled cysts Relentless molesting causing pyosis Taking on a green pallour from swelling so deep Aching boils mellifluously seep As you are left to weep Septicemic pyemia, there's posion in your veins Saprophytic vibrio ingesting dead membranes Spirillum minus inflaming sodoku Steatorrhic psilosis, you've really got to go Replete with bubos, cankers, and sores Attendees succumb to the coccus in scores Our pestilence shall end existence Agonizing cries give way to chorditis Hushed death rattles, thanks to bacillus inside us No sound passing cancrum from expiring scum Integumental ulcers evidence disintegration To your demise, we raise our libations A festive soirée as lives pass away No anti-biotic can stop our pandemic Our disease and debauchery campaign is systemic Take to the pit and your life is forfeit The surface teeming with the most noxious infestation of all Through touring endeavours we will ensure humanity's fall 03. Raise The Stakes Music by Andrew LaBarre and Sean McGrath Lyrics by Ross Sewage
An aceldama littered with corpses, withered
Cerebrum spills from heads hacked in twain Incarnadine shower across land scoured Quenching the sod, the blood of the slain Battles we've fought and conquests we've wrought In wholesale slaughter, embroiled Harvesting dead for our dinner spread To the victors, the fruit of the spoiled A quartet of gorelords, reigning in blood Sweetmeats are ablated in a sanguine flood Survivors of the melee are illaqueated Deigned as pabulation, impinguated Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled Flagitations have all failed Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled Tapered pikes piercing entrails Trodding down a path, beset on each side By the ganched and their horrisonant cries Astride cacuminated poles, they point the way To an arescent feast celebrating victory Heartily whiff a myriad of stenches Putrescine platters brought forth by wenches Cruor bullion, the soup du jour Into tankards, claret is poured Crapulous carousing, the de rigueur Dehiscent lungs bellow gargled parlance Supplying ambience Caitiff factions sullied our names Beseiging their lands, we staked our claims With their progeny dead and women caught Now the impaled shall rot Culled from a paladin's remains The redolant guts of peditastellus slain Culinary skills are put to the test For a seven corpse meal we can't wait to ingest From on high, the beleagured cry of suffering Stuck like pigs on acicular sticks, uncontrolled blubbering Atop gavelocks, punctured gralloch haemorrhage, therein Their final view of this motley crew eating finewed kin [solo: "Slow Death" by S.C. McGrath] Sean, rip off their flesh Ross, bring me a glass of blood Raul, prepare to make carcass stew Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled No body left unnassailed Raise the stakes, leave them all impaled These life times we have curtailed Gullets full of tripe harvested from foes Through haughty engorgement, their flesh we have disposed Skeletons lanced and left dangling in the air Of our wrathful scourge, a grave reminder 04. Operating Theatre Music by Sean McGrath Lyrics by Ross Sewage
Baiting the vain and aesthetically challenged
To my office of promise and false hope Demarcating lines of incision for corporeal revision The foundation laid for a malpractical joke Tranquilized and secured on a gurney Associates throng for the spectacle on which they thrive Unconsciousness no escape as you lay wide awake Our peers observe as your placed under knife We'd like to welcome you to the operating theatre My scalpel marks perforations on your countenance Volsella securely fastened as I pull As ligature is excised with no anasthesia I'm sure you'll find this process quite painful Fourteen bones degloved as periosteum is exposed Bereft of palpebra, eyes starve for moisture The nasal conchae and zygoma Under chisel and mallet shall fissure A jovial soirée for which our comrades have gathered Relinquished admission and collude in our laughter They applaud the disfiguring with needless suffering From this mutilation there will be no recovering An abscinded face we'll replace with your posterior Gaze through a brown-eye as your shit-faced in the mirror Your visage is your end, the lips a sphincter instead In our surgical troupe you're cast as the shit-head Piercing adipose tissue With rusted hooks and screws To keep the crowd amused You'll break a leg or two With needle and ink I stain Your skin, with text profane No part is left unmaimed This show's rather insane We'll knock 'em dead in the operating theatre The show must gore on in the operating theatre As the curtain falls on another corpus-plasty Chains jangle when the flesh they're sewn in twitches You shant miss your cue as your body we abuse It's not the audience, but you we've left in stitches [solo: "Le Grand Guignol" by S.C. McGrath] The operating theatre 05. Choke On It Music by Andrew LaBarre Lyrics by Sean McGrath
Icy liquid fills your lungs
A gushing salt water sluice Flushing out your bronchia with vitriol Your trachea is targeted for particular abuse Alveoli burst as I quench your thirst You're hideously out of breath Pneumonectomy, the most apparent of solutions "Drowned in own blood," the cause of death Internal bleeding makes you wretch And causes a foul regurgitation Vomiting chyme and chunks of lung You really are in quite a situation Gargling foamy spit Your throat is violently slit These symptoms won't remit You're forced to choke on it Your heaving chest cavity opened for fun Broken ribcage sags atop your exploded lungs Gasping for air as your jugular drains You're having slight chest pains Your heart begins to slow and your eyes grow glassy As ruined organs are one by one discarded A death rattle croaks from your excavated throat Your tracheostomy has gone a bit retarded A cannula is thrust into crepitating guts To suction off obliterated tissues Foamy mucoid pus drips in gobs from the cuts Your pulmonary system has some issues I hack out your trachea with hatred and malice And squeeze out the plaque from within Your pre-mortem spasm and tearful exclamations Caused me and my partners to grin Internal bleeding makes you wretch And causes a foul regurgitation Vomiting chyme and chunks of lung You really are in quite a situation Gargling foamy spit Your throat is violently slit These symptoms won't remit You're forced to choke on it 06. We Belong Dead Music & lyrics by Ross Sewage
A plague on mankind, a pox on the planet
We are the surgeons of sickness and shit Innocent bystanders are subjected to the horror Our gruesome displays give rise to a furor Bodies were piled and defiantly defiled Up to our knees in blood, sweat, and bile For the means to achieve our deviant needs The guilty should die and the innocent bleed Doctors of death, practitioners of pain Morbid addictions cannot be restrained A need to dismember, disfigure, and maim By A.M.A. standards, we've gone quite insane Hippocrates turning in his grave The oath, broken, cannot be mended From the realms of science we've strayed And into the charnel house descended Vitriolic tinctures substituted for plasma Intra-venously rotted by a virulent miasma Appendages unnecessarily amputated To promote zero growth all were castrated A myopic nurse doles out the bonesaw The O.R. is now a functioning abbatoir Prescriptions meted out for an untimely demise Injections of fæces, our malicious advice Appointments were kept for the ceasing of lives Our promise to heal, a pack of lies A Hippocratic hypocrisy When the pledge is defiled The house of healing an atrocity The list of victims we've compiled Hung on a noose, drowned in the loam, sliced at the vein Let flow the red Choked on a pill, impaled through the brain We belong dead [solo: "The Flesh and the Fiends" by S.C. McGrath] Our clinic raided by the authorities Littered with corpses on all thirteen stories We toiled long in the laboratories Fueled by methamphetamines and forties Wading through offal and excrement Agents of law effect our detainment Judicial procedings with malevolent prejudice Our heinous crimes lack any precedence Horrifying facts and aggregious evidence The lives and deaths of medical deviants Bloodstained hands assure guilt, ipso facto Our lives are forfeit for theirs, quid pro quo Lethal injection, gas chamber, or the chair Corporeal punishment for our brand of intensive care In memorium to Hippocrates Our corporeal bonds are severed But our crimes against humanity In infamy, shall reign forever Hung on a noose, drowned in the loam, sliced at the vein Let flow the red Choked on a pill, impaled through the brain We belong dead [solo: "Physician, Kill Thyself" by A.S. LaBarre] 07. The Worms Crawl In Music by Sean McGrath Lyrics by Ross Sewage
My temple subjected to third world rigors
Mites, lice, and chiggers Fæcal particulates undermining hygeine Larvae gestating Nematodes penetrate through bare cutis Budding hydatid cysts To legions of parasites I will cater A human incubator Bowels transmuted into stygian pits Diarrh?ic fits Omentum impacted by a septic infusion Intestinal occlusion Invasion precipitated by a vermes wermacht Treatments are for naught Burrowing through my sebacious glands Muscles serrated into strands Domestic quarters for all manner of vermin Inside of me squirmin' Linear lesions across my forearms and hands Larva migrans Plerocercoids gorge and migrate Tunneling will not abate Uretal fibrosis from the rubble Now, urine trouble The worms crawl in The Wohlfartia fly is making a nest My epidermis, a home for the pests Gasterophilial infants are binging As the creeping eruption is inching Viscera gnawed away By parasitic larvae This life, I have rued Reduced to worm food Sparganosis generates fundal ulcerations Adiposal liquidation A mass of scolices clotting the cecum Impacted scybalum Quenching parched mouths on my succus entricus Ingesting the viscus Through the shinc-door, the pupa are lured The early worm catches the turd Hyperemesis induced for tæniacide Useless tonics imbibed Atheroma results in gangrene A voracious maggots dream The worms crawl in The worms crawl out 08. To Die For Music by Andrew LaBarre Lyrics by Ross Sewage
A liturgist in the realm of filth and gore
Augean bard of æsculapian deviance Fables I've made, sick stories I've parlayed For the rapt attention of my heinous Despised rottrephile, the object of my infection A gore hound obsessed with the extreme and obscene In manic obesciance, I pledge my devotion Composing sonnets of horror for my ghoul fiend Penny dreadfuls are met apathetically Asomatous, they are mere words For a worthy offering I need tangible death The pen has proved fallible to the might of the swords For my Bathorial maiden, I'll kill and maim For our victims, the future proves bleak I'll slice throats in her bloody name Rending other's flesh that in me is so weak Excisions and slices and cuts to their integument My finesse with cutlery, she doth inspire Collecting a bouquet of offal, my regiment Trophies to admire Dislimbed torsos and severed craniums Disinterred innards and human chum Though I present this sanguine tribute It's never enough and still I'm rebuked A grandiose gesture, I require for a petulent madamned Gutted, my entrails will be preserved in canopic vials Formaldehyde and alcohol are meted into jars Lacerating extremities, a fitting end to these trials Incised omentum, avulsed intestines Abdominal evisceration, self-dissection Mellifluent gore is met with ennui My tragic reward is naught but death's kiss Consciousness falters as blood flows from my head Lay me down to die, nothing is better than this 09. Rest In Fæces Music by Sean McGrath Lyrics by Ross Sewage
A decrepit necropolis, abused and ignored
Once hallowed monuments disintegrate with neglect Pillaged crypts littered with detiritus on the floor This final resting place, a dillapidated wreck As municipal funding began to ebb The caretaker's keep was left deserted Mausoleums suffering dust and cobwebs The lustre of stone epitaphs were bled... rest in fæces Arboreal extremities left to grow unattended Rooted through loam, exfodiating excre-ducts Innundated with swill, bulging and distended Oxidised pipes, from a sodden womb, were plucked A fusty cargo of human excreta Impacted pipes caused the flow to reverse Upon the cemetary, litres of diarrh?a As the leaden veins burst... rest in fæces A tsunami of ordure saturated the hallowed soil Corpulent ballast disinterred coffins, amongst the manure, embroiled As rectal mung flows Cadavers exposed Tombstones in pieces Resting in fæces Carcass and sewage A copro-barrage It never ceases Resting in fæces All manner of spilth were disgorged from the ground Corpses, awash in night soil, were from their peace unbound The torrent of cess eroded each memorial plaque Incompetent care of the city of the dead has been brought to task Enervated... concrete pillars crumbled Inculpated... supervision bumbled Conspurcated... overrun by ordure Festulated... such a nasty odour Exhumed bodies floated in the stool The graveyard, an over-sized jardin This memorial park, run by a fool For the necropolis, this is the end [solo: "A Teminal Case" by S.C. McGrath] [solo: "The Horror..." by A.S. LaBarre] 10. Carpe Mortem
[Instrumental]
|