Carcass - Inpropagation Lyrics

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Insipid fumes bellow

From the atrabilious

Chimney.

In the sanetified

Crevet i calmly pillage

And rake

For hot dry

Powdered human slag

Still steaming in the

Crematorium's grate.

Bio-organic ebullition

Bones tar tallow dehydrates

For my deleterious horticulture

So that i may cultivate..

Your mortal mechanism dies

In nutrients rich.

In the hallowed turf you lie

Just for the taking.

Charred sinews

As good as lime

No phosphates do i need.

Deteriorated flesh

Used as top-soil

To replenish and

Nourish seed.

Spreading this human potash

As ash matured.

Recycling my rich harvest.

Bring out your dead...

For use as manure!

Irrigating tears are shed.

But the ground must be fed.

And there's no rest for the dead.

Tipping and dusting up

The spilt contents of urns.

Every morsel that glows

As embers in the fire.

Extinguishing all hope

Of beautrific dispatch.

These charred chassis desired.

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Exequiet rites performed.

A coronach sooting up the flu.

Enter my execrable inferno.

Even in the after-life

There's work to do.

The nitrogen content high

The flesh is weak.

At the graveside mourners cry.

You're never to wake again.

Burnt brisket renews

The ground

To germinate my seed.

Cremated bodies

Are my spoil

To use them as plant feed.

Ploughing this abhorrant

Human manure.

Seedling my rich harvest.

Bring out your dead

For the soils to devour.

Dry the dead are bled.

Because the ground

Must be fed.

Still no rest for the dead.

I propagate

Dust in the grate.

Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

Diluted in water

And sprayed on crops.

Charcoal fats

Flesh and soot

Fertilising pastures

With active furtile rot.

Incumbent.

Latent calories are spent.

Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

Renewing the land

With corpses corrupt.

Mortuary scrapings

Hearses a must.

To the hot hearth

The diseased are trussed.

Harvesting the defouled

To fertilise the soil.

Rejuvenating the spent

With my fecundate spoils...

Reaping the gone

To nourish the land.

Replenishing exhausted pastures

With my uncanny sleight of hand.

Restoring the unnatural balance.

Sowing my seed.

Defalcating the departed

I rapt and glean.

So i recite my contrite lament.

Lacrimation for the dead.

Their rest which i disturb.

Where should stand row upon row

Of cold grey remembrance stones

My cash crops now grow.

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