Your Funeral, My Feast

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 liquefy
 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