Consuming Impulse Lyrics
| Song | Consuming Impulse |
| Artist | Exhumed |
| Album | Anatomy Is Destiny |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Matt | |
| 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... |
| zuo qu : Matt | |
| 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 forcefed 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 nbsp 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 halfeaten torso gorged to the glut | |
| Piece by piece you are fed the chicest cuts | |
| As the dinnerbell 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 bloodsoaked 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 selfdissection | |
| Clutch at grume inside your bowels with halfeaten 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 | |
| Halfeaten 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... |
| zuò qǔ : Matt | |
| 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 forcefed 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 nbsp 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 halfeaten torso gorged to the glut | |
| Piece by piece you are fed the chicest cuts | |
| As the dinnerbell 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 bloodsoaked 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 selfdissection | |
| Clutch at grume inside your bowels with halfeaten 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 | |
| Halfeaten 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... |
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