What the old man don't know

What his eyes yet have seen

My sordid transpirings well into each eve

While I'm paid so handsomely

I would work here for free

I stitch tight each orifice

Once blessed with my seed

The lonely deceased



Cryptic, sewn-mouthed their secrets

Shameful their silence

Dragged down to the grave



What happens on the slab

Dies in this morgue with me

In these four walls my grisly playground

Where none rest in peace



No words have been spoken

No reprimand said

Concealing so carefully

My lust for the dead

Their insides are glistening

Curiosities fed

Forensically frolicking

While god is in bed



Have I gone mad?

Gruesome kingdom so lurid

Hidden so convincingly

They'd have my head

Morbid morgue of malpractice

I envy each death

Are they finally free?



This flesh of ours

An earthly cage, key six feet down in a grave

What harm's been done?

The breathless have not any inhibition



Haunted in dreams of their dead faces come to life

Death is my business, work diligently

A forte I've taken all too seriously

I'm swift with the trocar, I scalpel with glee

Besides, I like fucking them, a small perk for me



The morgue is my sick whorehouse

Their bodies, favourite toys

Anointing them with ejaculate

All the good little girls and boys



They'd call me mad, sickly, lifeless devotion

Their blood and their innocence drained

What's left unsaid

Guilted damnening sentence

If there is a god down in hell's where I'll be



This flesh of ours

An earthly cage, key six feet down in a grave

What crime's been done?

The speechless won't contest this violation



Cold dolls of skin

Mounting the slab, thrusting myself deep within

Though frowned upon

The company policy: termination