Impaled - Choice Cuts lyrics

rate me

music - Andrew LaBarre

lyrics - Ross Sewage

Parasitic worm buried in a womb

Another being born for our abuses

To serve mankind, it need not grow up

When inherently it has such nutritional uses

Graven goulash, make it posh

Sanguine soufflé, morbid maître d'

Gutted entrails brewing... choice cuts

Ruptured pustules spewing

Immature giblet pudding... choice cuts

Infanticidal cooking

I'm the ghoul of the culinary profession

Preparing this toddler for a meal

Served up with ghastly garnishes

A lividinous glaze congeals

Making use of my recipe selection

A myriad of ways to do the infant

Each dish stirring up my appetite

To engage in abortive devourement

Cleavers and whisks, my tools of dissection

A gas powered stove my crematory

The fridge acts as the juvenile's morgue

In a kitchen so bloody and gory

The body carbonizes in my oven

The stuffing held in by sutures

Ingredients from an embrionic sac

The act of an obstetrical butcher

Repeatedly basted in menstruation

Endometrium set aside for a toast

The once smoothe skin now crackles and burns

This will surely stunt its growth

Graven goulash, make it posh

Sanguine soufflé, morbid maître d'

(solo: "The Other White Meat" by A.S. LaBarre)

Prone on the dining room table

The babe is subjected to my fork

As I consume the first helpings

I delight in my toil and work

I clean my plate of all its dressings

Grazing on all the putrid gore

Merely whetting my taste buds

I am disposed to fix up some more

Candle-light flickers off my best china

The silver's been polished to a gleam

Despite masticating post-martem abortions

I'm more civilized than it may seem

Graven goulash, make it posh

Sanguine soufflé, morbid maître d'