NECROTICISM - DESCANTING THE INSALUBRIOUS
                               INPROPAGATION
                            (Music: Owen/Steer)
                             (Lyrics: Walker)
             Insipid fumes bellow from the atrabilious chimney
         Whilst in the sanetified crevet I calmly pillage and take
                      For hot dry powdered human slag
                 Still steaming in the crematorium's grate
            Bio-organic ebullition, bones tar, tallow dehydrates
          For my deleterious horticulture so that I may cultivate
               Your mortal mechanism dies - in nutrients rich
            In the hallowed turf you lie - just for the taking
          Charred sinew's as good as lime, no phosphates do I need
     Deteriorated flesh used as top-soil, to replenish and nourish seed
                Spreading this human potash, as ash matured
   Recycling my rich harvest, bring out your dead...for use as manure...
        Irrigating tears are shed, but the ground still must be fed,
                     And there's no rest for the dead
             (lead fills: Dust in the mausoleum by W.G. Steer)
             Tipping and dusting up the spilt contents of urns
               Every morsel that glows as embers on the fire
                Extinguishing all hope of beatrific dispatch
                       These charred chassis desired
        Exequiet rites now performed, a coronach sooting up the flu
   Enter my execrable inferno, even in the after-life there's work to do
            The nitrogen content's high - but the flesh is weak
        At the graveside mourners cry - you're never to wake again
              (lead: Compost humous horticulture by M. Amott)
           Burnt brisket renews the ground, to germinate my seed
          Cremated bodies are my spoil, to use them as plant-feed
                   Ploughing this abhorrent human manure
Seedling my rich harvest, bring out your dead...for the soils to devour...
           Dry the dead are bled, because the ground must be fed,
                  And there's still no rest for the dead
                      (lead: Humanure by W.G. Steer)
                      I propagate - dust in the grate
   Ashes to ashes - dust to dust, diluted in water and sprayed on crops,
Charcoal, fats, flesh and soot fertilising pasture with active fertile rot
                   Incumbent - latent calories are spent
    Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, renewing the land with corpses corrupt
   Mortuary scrapings, hearses a must, to the hot hearth the deceased are
                                  trussed
               Harvesting the defouled, to fertilise my soil
            Rejuvenating the spent with my fecundate spoils...
                   Reaping the gone, to nourish the land
       Replenishing exhausted pasture with my uncanny sleight of hand
              Restoring the unnatural balance, sowing my seed
                Defalcating the departed, I rapt and glean
          So I recite my contrite lament, lacrimation for the dead
                       Their rest which I disturb...
      Where should stand row upon row of cold grey remembrance stones
                         My cash crops now grow...
                        CORPOREAL JIGSORE QUANDARY
                         (Music: Steer/Owen/Amott)
                             (Lyrics: Walker)
               Excised and anatomised, deviscerated disarray
                       The torso diverged with pride
                Deftly amputated, evulsed limbs now defunct
                The trunk imbrued, tatty stumps used as lugs
                      For a chondrin puzzle so quaint
                          Head and body decollate
                      A heaving mass so quiescent...
               Scattered and scrambled, your teasement grows
                    - A bloody caricature to make whole
         A squirming grisly jigsaw, detrital fragments fit so snug
                - That missing piece will leave you stumped
               Totally disassembled, nicely sliced and diced
                    - A human being this once resembled
              Real cranium teaser, carved from flesh and bone
                            - So mystifying...
                 Battered and diffused with placating blows
                       - A human jigsaw to make whole
               A sequacious pattern which once fitted so snug
                    - Joining together each dubious lump
                Ravaged disassembly, neatly cubed and diced
                    - A cold mannequin once reassembled
              Astute brain teaser, incorporate flesh and bone
                            - So mortifying...
                   An incessant game - methodically made
           With each cumulative piecing - of commensated meat...
            Bi-manual reconstruction, eldritch problem complete
                             A convened effigy
                 A pathological toy, each chunk rigorously
              Inter mortis locking, as you pathogenically rot
                           Such a perplexing task
                      To fit the remains in the casket
                      Uliginous mess so quiescent...
                     (lead: Human jigsaw by W.G. Steer)
               (lead: A heaving organic puzzle by M. Amott)
                   An incessant game - methodically made
            With each cumulative piece - of commensated meat...
                           SYMPOSIUM OF SICKNESS
                               (Music: Owen)
                             (Lyrics: Walker)
                         An encloaking, dark epoch
                     In which all life is now appraised
                        Another valueless commodity
                  On which the rapacious may feebly graze
                      Indebted homage to their mammon
                  Whilst the mort is the music of the meek
              Transcendence from a beautifully brutal reality
                            Is what we seek...
                           Noxious, sully dolour
                  Is not the sentiment upon which we feed
                        But precocious consciousness
                      Draws out a morbid nous to bleed
                       Chiselling out seething words
                      Which cut deep down to the bone
                               Always legible
                     So be it on our own headstone...
                   (lead trem: Necrononism by M. Amott)
                          Rising to our own nadir
                        Reality we try to extirpate
                      Trying to raise a twisted smile
                        Similar to that silver plate
                        On a coffin which is joined
                        Hammering in each final nail
                          Last kill and testament
                           Left now intestate...
                           Noxious, sully dolour
                      Is not the thesis which is bled
                       A precarious train of thought
                   In which mental cattle-trucks are led
                         Carving out skillful words
                         Which shear brittle bones
                           Always spelt out well
                   We just can't leave the dead alone...
                              Monographic text
              A terminal doctrine of diseased minds perplexed
                            Enunciated epigrams
                      Eschatological, rotten requiems
                        Always our own worst cynics
                       Exorcisers of scorching scorn
                           Digging our own graves
                     But never to stand over and mourn
                        The roulade now pandemonium
                        Displaced in the muggy sods
                         Espoused with the macabre
                       The dead we filch and rob...
                           ...Munificant bale...
                         ...From deviants staid...
                  Execrations - taunting spiritual release
                 Exoneration - upon the perishable we feast
             Excogitation - picking at the bones of convention
               Exculpitation - foul verbal conflagration...
                      Epigraphic text, a literary vex
              The macabre perplexed, with corporeality meshed
             (lead: Eschatological excavations by W.G. Steer)
                               Euthenic text
                 An unpleasant journey to a world perplexed
                            Corporeal epigraphs
                       Eschatological unpleasantness
                           Always forever cryptic
                        Exercisers of twisted grief
                    Helping your to dig up the interred
                     Whilst fresh still are the wreaths
                        The harmony now pandemonium
                        Heard out in the muddy dirt
                         Espoused with the bizarre
                        We play on our own turf...
                            ...Epithetic text...
                     ...A macabre reality perplexed...
              Execrations - literary tales of atrocities fairy
                   Exoneration - harsh, cold bloody marys
                 Excogitation - a narcissistic eutechnique
              Exculpitation - perverse artworks, so unique...
                      Monographic text, a literary vex
               The macabre perplexed, with reality meshed...
                     (lead: Corpsereality by M. Amott)
               (lead: Cold logistic language by W.G. Steer)
                             PEDIGREE BUTCHERY
                               (Music: Steer)
                             (Lyrics: Walker)
              (lead: Gutted, hashed and deboned by W.G. Steer)
                 (lead: Prepared on the slab by M. Amott)
                  In caustic butchery I parent my dominion
                 In the food chain I forge the missing link
               Cold temerity confects this splintered forage
                Infantile corruption taken to the brink...
                   Making hash of the spumous erubescent
                       All natural compassion removed
            The newly fully developed boiled as sprouted fodder
                     Matrilineal murder - cordon bleu
                           As salubrious pet food
                        Human midden is costumed...
                         Not one to mince my words
                But how I love to see those siblings churned
                       - In tins they are reared...
                              Ghastly I slake
                         Bestial appetites to sate
                         As flesh and steel I mate
                    To fill the lower species' plate...
                    Desparental, primparal goods oozing
              The bawling, squabbling denied the suckling teat
                Sentient bloodletting sprains the sporulate
                    Makes a choice chimerical treat...
                    Rheological, twisted nursery chymes
                        The fluxing of the defleshed
                   Paedophilosophical, carnage knowledge
              As the illegitimeat to the domesticated is fed
                              So as you breed
                             The will bleed...
                          Contumely calorie count
                        Ebullient death toll mounts
                          - Higher and higher...
                  (lead: Choicest, prim cuts by M. Amott)
                 (lead: Firm, meaty chunks by W.G. Steer)
                In caustic butchery I parent your oppression
                    An open slather, you brooded I slew
              Despumating the midden, the desipient I segment
                Pertaining vitality, their dispatch I cement
             Served out for minion in their feeding trough...
                          INCARNATE SOLVENT ABUSE
                            (Music: Amott/Steer)
                             (Lyrics: Walker)
                         Intenacious, intersecting
                     Reaving fats from corporal griskin
                    Culled...for sodden gelatine brayed
                   Skeletal groats triturated, desinently
                     Exsiccated, sere glutenate brewed
                      For frivolous solvent abuse...
                          Derogate coarse remains
                              For glue to dry
                          Despoiled marrow razed
                   ...A truculent shambles so severe...
                  Extravated bone - as adhesive incarnate
                  A pellucid quietus - nocuously I create
                    Corporal glue, breathe in the fumes
                  Mucilage vapours, toxic fumes to savour
                    (lead: Glue stiffing by W.G. Steer)
                             Comminuted remains
                               As gum to dry
                          A lissom gel so glazed
                    ...A truculent shambolic affair...
                  The exsanguine esprit - snorted as snuff
               Rheumic oils forever - bonded together as gum
                       Human glue, choke on the fumes
                  Noxious vapours, slaughterous labour...
               (lead: Viscous residue snorting by M. Amott)
                            CARNEOUS CACOFFINY
                               (Music: Steer)
                             (Lyrics: Walker)
                    Striking up my discordant underture
                    A carnal cacophony perversely penned
                        Transposed...and decomposed
                   On strings fashioned from human twine
                   Lovingly wound and fretted upon my bow
                 Garishly incarcerated...the dead resonate
                          In a final death-throe
                           Vibrant as I thresh...
                    Movements scripted for the dead...
                  Orchestral horrors I vehemently conduct
                        My corpus-concertos cordial
                         Disinterred...and detuned
                            With six feet below
                        In harmony with the deceased
                    My inspiration...your disintegration
                         For my latest masterpiece
                       My score creeps your flesh...
                      Notes seep from sinewy frets...
                         But don't hold your breath
                    As you wait for your god or the void
                        Or the abyss of nothingness
                       Your usefulness isn't through
                       Your productivity I resume...
                       My sordid, soiled handicrafts
                   Will be your afterlife's handicap...
                          My corrupt crescendos...
                      Will leave you out on a limbo...
                       Your disposition I unleash...
                      ...You will rest in my piece...
                            With deadly dynamics
                       You're dead, buried and barred
                     Your remains dampened and fingered
                         Your mortal coil is barbed
                        The death-bells are peeling
                          Ringing out as you flake
                        Shrieking out their recitals
                       A celebration of your wake...
                            Enter my funereality
                         My world two metres under
                             A curious habitat
                        Your muddy trench I plunder
                           Pass on to ethereality
                     Churned out by the sextant's blade
                     You live your life in wretchedness
                         And death is no escape...
  (lead: The ascent to eternal pandemonium and tabulature by W.G. Steer)
               LAVAGING EXPECTORATE OF LYSERGIDE COMPOSITION
                               (Music: Steer)
                             (Lyrics: Walker)
           (lead: Administration of toxic compounds by M. Amott)
                Officinal - immiscible compounds are mixed,
                 A gagging expectorate, of lysergic acids,
              Premensely emerced, consciousness slowly slips,
                  Peculated, in an ebriating narcosis...
                               ...Cataleptic,
                         Imbibe...neurotripsick...
                (leads: Gross disorientation by W.G. Steer)
               Neurally numbered, a narcosis so trans-lucid,
                       So pernicious, halluciagenics,
                      Procreating, ocular contortion,
                Your idiosyncrassy, is now expropriated...
                              ...Extirpation,
                           Mind...termination...
                  FORENSIC CLINICISM/THE SANGUINE ARTICLE
                               (Music: Steer)
                             (Lyrics: Walker)
         Salutiferous exaltation, through fusty spatterings I sift,
       Cauterizing proud flesh, pyogenic cortex I just yearn to rip,
       With impalpable, cathartic tools dilapidated lusts I gratify,
  Cold premeditated surgery, in my calculated surgery I hold your fragile
                                  life...
                               Pultacious...
                               Pugnacious...
                               Pernicious...
                            Acro-idiopathic...
          Artificially concussed, excavating to your gastric core,
         Patulous, deep wounds, cascading and crimson as I explore,
        Master at my bloody art, I like to carve sculpture and maim,
  Mounted on the freezer's geurney, you're exhibited until you enter into
                                 decay...
                               Pultacious...
                               Pugnacious...
                                Delicious...
                         Gastric-idiopathology...
             Welcome to my theatre, the stage upon which I act,
       Turning in a sumptuous performance, heiniously I hew and gash,
           Churning out a deep gulch, the incision a major nick,
           A quick toke of nitrous oxide is how I get my kicks...
             Expurgating healthy tissue, opulent flesh I slit,
             Costate cuts expunged as the patient I now fillet,
            Malpractising and mussing, carnage hyperventilates,
              Self placebonic, the only job is to operate...
             The recumbent are my prey - under my genial blade,
       Your precordium I brutally plunder - whilst you're put under
                  Exanguinating - you're totally parched,
                    Exenterating - removing body parts,
                    Wholly abraded - surgically maimed,
                     Decortication - medicinally slain
         Contaminating, infecting, how I love to cough and sneeze,
            On the carneous culture, to cause bacteria to breed,
          Anaesthetised, paralysed, a clinical stupor is induced,
           With callous dexterity your bodily mass is reduced...
               I extract the gullet - to end up in my bucket,
        A quick flick of my wrist - and I'll be struck off the list
                  Exanguinating - straight from the heart,
                   Exenerating - with my lancet so sharp,
                      Anatomically - my surgery maims,
                Decortication - by the clinically deranged
                Gross misconduct, I make the choicest cuts,
                  Text book stabs, written of your tag...
                    Wheeled away after a medical mishap,
               In a polythene bag your body is now wrapped...
                       The acute wound now sealed up,
             The picture of ill-health, you're a bit cut up...
               (leads: The sanguine articles by W.G. Steer)

    Source: geocities.com/goregrinding