[musick & lyrixxx - Matt Harvey, 1995]
A sombre study in an ashen shade of grey, The haunting eyes of the lifeless
not
yet rotten, Embalming fluid stave off incursive decay, Chemicals course
through passages that life has forgotten, Preservatives bubble
and fume shades
of jaundice and amber, Sequestered alone in my embalming chamber, Unknowing,
unseeing, and laid spread-eagle on the
slab, A lackluster piece of meat I
polish, scrub, and swab... Meticulously grooming and brushing, clipping with
care, Each detail is
attended to as I drag a comb through the hair, I beautify
the blemished face of the deceased, In the hopes that the bereaved will
be
somewhat at peace... This is my endeavour of dubious merit, My morbid
application of sleight of hand, A charlatan for the
mourning and timid, A
touch up artist for the dead, gone, and bland... To sanitize the ghastly
countenance of death, Whose true
rigors are best left unseen, Powders,
puffs, and chemicals are all that is left, A corpse made to strut, prance, and
preen...
Romanticizing rigor mortis, and death be not vain, Caked with layers
of powder, toner, and deceipt, I vomit on the floor at the
leering, smiling
face, Leaving the deception not yet fully complete... My make-up kit now
callously discarded, No more use for
toners, blushes, and rouge, Extracting
the tools of dissection, Forceps, scalpels, and pins I eagerly peruse... A
sanguinary frenzy
now ensues, Carving, rending, and generally making a mess,
Carbonated embalming fluid foams from vacant eyesockets, Splattering
and
sullying your sunday best... Ineptly mangled and randomly remade, Taking a
stab at plastic surgery on human remains, Weaving a
wretched, fleshy tapestry
of gore, A collage of tongue, skin, blood, sinew, and brain... Your face
stricken with total
disfiguration, The dignity of death now cruelly erased,
Somewhat innappropriately dressed for the somber occasion, No pretense
remains
as you're sent off to your wake...
