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Inpropagation
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Current song lyrics
Insipid fumes bellow from the atrabilious chimney<br />whilst in the sanctified crevet i calmly pillage and rake<br />for hot dry powdered human slag<br />still steaming in the crematorium's grate<br />Bio-organic ebullition, bones tar, tallow dehydrates<br />for my deleterious horticulture so that i may cultivate<br />Your mortal mechanism dies - in nutrients rich<br />in the hallowed turf you lie - just for the taking<br />Charred sinew's as good as lime, no phosphates do i need<br />deteriorated flesh used as top-soil, to replenish and nourish seed<br />spreading this human potash, as ash matured<br />recycling my rich harvest, bring out your dead...for use as manure...<br />Irrigating tears are shed, but the ground still must be fed<br />[lead fills: dust in the mausoleum by w.g. steer]<br />Tipping and dusting up the spilt contents of urns<br />every morsel that glows like ember on the fire<br />extinguishing all hope of beatrific dispatch<br />these charred chassis desired<br />Exequiet rites now performed, a coronach sooting up the flu<br />enter my execrable inferno, even in the after-life there's work to do<br />The nitrogen content's high - but the flesh is weak<br />at the graveside mourners cry - you're never to wake again<br />[lead: compost humous horticulture by m. amott]<br />Burnt brisket renews the ground, to germinate my seed<br />cremated bodies are my spoil, to use them as plant-feed<br />ploughing this abhorrent human manure<br />seeding my rich harvest, bring out your dead...for the soils to devour...<br />Dry the dead are bled, because the ground must be fed<br />and there's still no rest for the dead<br />[lead: humanure by w.g. steer]<br />I propagate - dust in the grate<br />ashes to ashes - dust to dust, diluted in water and sprayed on crops<br />charcoal, fats, flesh and soot fertilising pasture with active fertile rot<br />Incumbent - latent calories are spent<br />Ashes to ashes - dust to dust renewing the land with corpses corrupt<br />mortuary scrapings, hearses a must, to the hot hearth the deceased are trussed<br />Harvesting the defouled, to fertilize my soil<br />rejuvenating the spent with my fecundate spoils...<br />Reaping the gone, to nourish the land<br />replenishing exhausted pasture with my uncanny sleight of hand<br />restoring the unnatural balance, sowing my seed<br />defalcating the departed, i rapt and glean...<br />So i recite my contrite lament, lacrimation for the dead<br />their rest which i disturb...<br />where should stand row upon row of cold grey remembrance stones<br />my cash crops now grow...
New song lyrics
Insipid fumes bellow from the atrabilious chimney<br />whilst in the sanctified crevet i calmly pillage and rake<br />for hot dry powdered human slag<br />still steaming in the crematorium's grate<br />Bio-organic ebullition, bones tar, tallow dehydrates<br />for my deleterious horticulture so that i may cultivate<br />Your mortal mechanism dies - in nutrients rich<br />in the hallowed turf you lie - just for the taking<br />Charred sinew's as good as lime, no phosphates do i need<br />deteriorated flesh used as top-soil, to replenish and nourish seed<br />spreading this human potash, as ash matured<br />recycling my rich harvest, bring out your dead...for use as manure...<br />Irrigating tears are shed, but the ground still must be fed<br />[lead fills: dust in the mausoleum by w.g. steer]<br />Tipping and dusting up the spilt contents of urns<br />every morsel that glows like ember on the fire<br />extinguishing all hope of beatrific dispatch<br />these charred chassis desired<br />Exequiet rites now performed, a coronach sooting up the flu<br />enter my execrable inferno, even in the after-life there's work to do<br />The nitrogen content's high - but the flesh is weak<br />at the graveside mourners cry - you're never to wake again<br />[lead: compost humous horticulture by m. amott]<br />Burnt brisket renews the ground, to germinate my seed<br />cremated bodies are my spoil, to use them as plant-feed<br />ploughing this abhorrent human manure<br />seeding my rich harvest, bring out your dead...for the soils to devour...<br />Dry the dead are bled, because the ground must be fed<br />and there's still no rest for the dead<br />[lead: humanure by w.g. steer]<br />I propagate - dust in the grate<br />ashes to ashes - dust to dust, diluted in water and sprayed on crops<br />charcoal, fats, flesh and soot fertilising pasture with active fertile rot<br />Incumbent - latent calories are spent<br />Ashes to ashes - dust to dust renewing the land with corpses corrupt<br />mortuary scrapings, hearses a must, to the hot hearth the deceased are trussed<br />Harvesting the defouled, to fertilize my soil<br />rejuvenating the spent with my fecundate spoils...<br />Reaping the gone, to nourish the land<br />replenishing exhausted pasture with my uncanny sleight of hand<br />restoring the unnatural balance, sowing my seed<br />defalcating the departed, i rapt and glean...<br />So i recite my contrite lament, lacrimation for the dead<br />their rest which i disturb...<br />where should stand row upon row of cold grey remembrance stones<br />my cash crops now grow...
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