Epicurean pathology
Shattered gross anatomy
Bodily fluids, foul and septic
I sing the body decrepit

Your funeral, my feast
You'll never rest in peace
Tagged, sectioned then slabbed
Slurp fluids from your body bag

Repulsive, jaundiced flesh
The stomach turning sight that I love best
Necrosis setting in
Discolored, rotting, mottled skin

The weevils writhe and squirm
Your torso now alive with worms
As organs liquify
I whet my abhorrent appetite

Your funeral, my feast
A masterstroke of rotting meat
My dinner table's where you rest in piece
Your funeral, my feast

Gruesome garnish, moist carnage
Raw bits of human garbage
The chunks seep, they won't keep
Gnashing through as each piece bleeds
Your decay, my entrée
I wouldn't have it any other way
Maggot millet, stuffs your gullet
To please my most deranged of palettes

Splenetic, ghastly taste
The stinking savor of pathological waste
Trypsin' and pepsin marinate
The loathsome bowels I masticate

To dine upon this foul concoction
Requires a taste for extreme unction
But for those who have the stomach
We sate our hunger on tripe and vomit

Your funeral, my feast
A masterstroke of rotting meat
My dinner table's where you rest in piece
Your funeral, my feast

Your funeral, my feast
Your funeral, my feast
Your funeral, my feast
Your funeral, my feast
Your funeral, my feast
Your funeral, my feast