The bleak sun rises through the smog stained clouds The day begins in a very somber way The stench of the dead in the Manchester morgue The stench of sterilized deacay... The hideous signal... I open my eyes, livid with sweat Obnoxious film... but where have I been? Strapped to the table, burning fluids course within my veins Mortific eyes cannot dissuide that I see... My plight is realized, I am dead but I see... I feel the pain of the rush of formaldehype, The brittleness of my bones And they said I would never live again The buzzing in my brain The never ending pain The hunger I possess Within this rotten mess I break the straps and rise to feed The necrotic fluid bubbles, human viscera I need Corner the fightened doctors, they say this cannot be As I devour their pulsing flesh, their blood will comfort me
My cohort rise from their crypts The morgue is in terror, blood rolls from our lips Some mangled bodies strewn in chaotic disarray Breakfast is served at the Manchester morgue The beginning of a horrifying day... No end in sight Our number multiply...
