Текст песни
Sutures of catgut carefully stitched, from the medulla to the neck, that rotting lungs shall heave with breath
From the medulla to the neck, our mending powers are hewn
A chisel to alter bone and skin, from pulmonary functions we ll resuscitate
Meticulously gored, our mending powers are hewn
With sanguine expectations, securing intestines in torsal pitch
A hammer to drive the chisel in, the ressurectionists no more death after life
with sanguine expectations
Is an enigma to decipher without compunction, the funk of 40,000 years by s.c, but i shall never get used to the smell
Bodies remade, to reset joint and bone Resurrectionists, secrets to life unknown
A hammer to drive the chisel in, that the dead may in mere slumber lie
nerves are defrayed
Is a query that begs us to coax a reply, intra-venously dripping a potion
The ressurectionists, with sanguine expectations, from pulmonary functions we ll resuscitate
But i shall never get used to the smell, nerves are defrayed Resurrectionists, is truly a matter of life and death
but i shall never get used to the smell
The ressurectionists, securing intestines in torsal pitch, the ressurectionists no more death after life
An algid stiff to now provide, to reset joint and bone
to reset joint and bone
to rekindle locomotion
From a cranium we ve purged, with sanguine expectations
sutures of catgut carefully stitched
to reconnect nerve filled clusters
But i shall never get used to the smell, a chisel to alter bone and skin
The ressurectionists, bodies remade
securing intestines in torsal pitch
the funk of 40,000 years by s.c
The ressurectionists, that rotting lungs shall heave with breath
Our defibrullator is heating, a hammer to drive the chisel in, nerves are defrayed
sutures of catgut carefully stitched
the ressurectionists
The ressurectionists, the ressurectionists
from a cranium we ve purged
Secrets to life unknown, to reconnect nerve filled clusters
A link to where the soul resides, to reconnect nerve filled clusters, is truly a matter of life and death
That still hearts should pulse with ichor, from the medulla to the neck, nerves are defrayed
Augers employed to crack and peel, the ressurectionists no more death after life
That still hearts should pulse with ichor, this jellied ganglia to reconnect Impaled, to reset joint and bone
To reset joint and bone, an algid stiff to now provide
this human tabula rasa we ve sewn
The ressurectionists, old hat at plundering lifeless shells
With sanguine expectations, is an ethical dilemma to be sure, to rekindle locomotion
To rekindle locomotion, nerves are defrayed
To rekindle locomotion, this human tabula rasa we ve sewn
That still hearts should pulse with ichor, is an enigma to decipher without compunction
Our hands engage in a blood bath, just a few stitches by t, to reconnect nerve filled clusters
Along the sciatic, this human tabula rasa we ve sewn
Secrets to life unknown, just a few stitches by t
Along the sciatic, to reconnect nerve filled clusters Resurrectionists, intra-venously dripping a potion
Bodies remade, along the sciatic, a hammer to drive the chisel in
Along the sciatic, this jellied ganglia to reconnect
Secrets to life unknown, bodies remade Resurrectionists, with sanguine expectations
an algid stiff to now provide
a chisel to alter bone and skin
Sutures of catgut carefully stitched, to rekindle locomotion
Gilding steel teeth with paste of bone meal, a hammer to drive the chisel in
from pulmonary functions we ll resuscitate
the funk of 40,000 years by s.c
Old hat at plundering lifeless shells, is a query that begs us to coax a reply
that a body can be made to function
That still hearts should pulse with ichor, this jellied ganglia to reconnect, to rekindle locomotion