Deep within the grave, where the cadaver lies decayed
There lurks the rotting
Within every fetid corpse, this process festers on its course
To speed the rotting
From the waste in which we wallow to the flesh we gluttonously swallow
We consume the rotting
In rubbish bins of medical waste awaits the horrendous, wretched taste
Of the rotting

Its ubiquity can't be denied
A gruesome trade, sempiternally plied

In the slither of the grubs the maggots writhing in their chum
There feed the rotting
In suppurating stools that dribble ichor into pools
There reeks the rotting
The humble and the great all consumed by the same fate
Become the rotting
In its blackening embrace all is eventually erased
By the rotting

That first whiff sure to nauseate
And its rancid fruit we regurgitate

The rotting's coming
The end it brings
The rotting is the destiny of all that's breathing
The rotting's strumming
On your heartstrings
The rotting's coming, 'til you're the corpse that we're bereaving
[Solo]

[?]

The putrid waste upon which we've built our lives
As we decay, maggots and weevils thrive

The rotting's coming
It was here all along
The rotting is an acrid, stinking, putrid savor
The rotting's strumming
Its discordant song
The rotting's thrumming
A defective dirge to scourge your neighbors

The rotting
The rotting
The rotting