Alba s touto skladbou:
All Guts, No Glory,
Opus Eponymous,
Purulent portents augur decrepit demise
A tumescent terminus draws near
Sloughing skin, boils erupt before your very eyes
Carbuncles and lesions appear
Wracked with infection - excruciated
An affliction which will not abate
Eczemic flesh stripped away - excoriated
A fetid, disease-ridden fate
Moribund, vomiting blood
All over the hospital floor
Not long for this earth, it only gets worse
Physiognomy ridden with sores
Rendered grotesque, thorax fills with cess
Suffering until your demise
Corrode from within, sepsis sets in
Innards begin to liquefy
Too late, face fate- Await, death’s gate
Sound the death knell - Sound the death knell
Overripe omens ooze out of your maw
Excrescent expectorate expunged
Sallowed skin, blistered and raw
Hacking up bits of clot-caked gunge
Riddled with welts - suppurated
Day by day this decay sprays its filth
Drain the pus into pans - intubated
Discharging bloody, pyomorphic swill
Feculent, purulent
Rampant infection now grown out of hand
Nauseated, expectorated
Bits of innards floating in your bedpan
Too late, face fate- Await, death’s gate
Sound the death knell - Sound the death knell
[Lead - Wes]
Disgusting yourself, you turn inside out
Epidermal revulsion takes hold
Prognosis is grim, there can no more doubt
You’re soon to be stiff, dead and cold
Vital organs spew forth - regurgitated
Prolapse of bowels, sinew and crud
Sanguineous breath - asphyxiated
Esophagus torn, drown in your own blood
Violent death, terminal breath
The hospital bed now a gore-soaked grave
Your execrable corpse, taken down to the morgue
Fodder for pathologists depraved
Too late, face fate- Await, death’s gate
Sound the death knell - Sound the death knell