Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Consuming Impulse, artist - Exhumed. Album song Anatomy Is Destiny / Live In Japan, in the genre
Date of issue: 22.07.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Relapse
Song language: English
Consuming Impulse |
Your dry throat creaks without a saliva to sputter |
As your pulpy dehydrated tongue soundlessly threshes |
Days without sustenance spent shackled and fettered |
Emaciated torso aches for the warm taste of flesh… |
I will make a meal of you, your hunger I’ll sate |
Saw off your leg at the knee to put on your dinner plate |
Try not to wince at the pain that you feel |
As I mince up your calf to prepare your next meal… |
Cauterise the gargled wound to stave off the haemorrhage |
You should savor the thought of your repast |
Choke down this bitter meal in spite of your revulsion |
Though how long can your source of food last? |
Keeping yourself alive as you’re force-fed your own flesh |
If you don’t eat up, you’re truly dead meat |
Legs turned to stumps, bloody drinks gargled in clumps |
In this case you really are what you eat… |
Autophagous gluttony |
Culinary pathology |
Dietary butchery |
Consuming impulse |
Ingest your corpse to be… |
Quadriplegic you feed as your dinner is served |
Waste not; |
want not, though there’s not much to conserve |
Severed and severely served upon a platter of splatter |
After a while the source of the sustenance barely even matters… |
Now a half-eaten torso gorged to the glut |
Piece by piece you are fed the chicest cuts |
As the dinner-bell rings your bloody chops are feverishly licked |
At the sight of your own roasted fat turned and browned on a spit… |
Your own meat in your mouth tastes bitter and internecine |
Noxious and moist, you get a taste of your own medicine |
Gnashing, pieces of your limbs with delight |
Digesting your death with each grotesque bloody bite |
What’s eating you? |
The question seems to moot |
Scraping chunks of your feet out of your blood-soaked sopping boot |
Bash open bones picked clean to suckle at the marrow |
As your culinary milieu of options inexorably narrows… |
Autophagous gluttony |
Culinary pathology |
Dietary butchery |
Consuming impulse |
Ingest your corpse to be… |
Feeding time comes again, the thorax falls victim to this slaughter |
Blood, pus and sebum replace wine, whiskey and water |
Sometimes survival will cost you an arm and a leg |
Your spittle running, red with bits of reeking bloody dregs… |
(Lead ' Mike) |
Masticate your own genitals, choke on your bludgeoned testicles |
With a hunger that will not be denied |
The sweetest of meats is your soft, fatty teats |
That I’ll be stuffing your face with tonight |
Puking up your own skin, just to devour it again |
Is a treat you’ll save for dessert |
Fresh meat for your lunch, fibula cracked, drained and crunched |
As your overstuffed gullet gasps and blurts… |
Your crudely resected anatomy is a wretched grisly sight |
But your stumps once arms just whet your appetite |
Nibbling at the sinews of your bloody forearms and wrists |
Ravenously devouring your shredded survival in fleshly chunks and meaty bits… |
Eviscerate yourself to gnaw at your own intestines |
Bones from severed fingers facilitate this haphazard self-dissection |
Clutch at grume inside your bowels with half-eaten grubby stumps |
Pulling out the repugnant meal in grotesque tumescent clumps… |
Remaining fingers prying off your succulent gouged out gums |
Gnaw at your stringy cheek lining and masticate your insatiable tongue |
But the pieces you ingest in carnivorous abandon |
Fall out of the gaping that you have torn in your intestines |
Gnash the meat from your avulsed face in a frenzied rush |
No genitals, no feet, no legs, no appendage left uncrushed |
Half-eaten tongue oozes spittle down your face ' your hunger undiminished |
Only when your partially devoured innards prolapse will this meal at last be |
finished |
Autophagous gluttony |
Culinary pathology |
Dietary butchery |
Consuming impulse |
Excrete your corpse to be… |