Quickly moving in the morning 'fore the corpse gets cold,
doesn't matter whether young or old,
up the mountain now we make our climb,
everyone knows it's feeding time,
and so they sharpen the knives, sharpen the blades,
close your eyes, it'll be okay.
Let's take a walk to where the vultures roam,
Feast upon the bodies, clean them down to the bone,
Strip away the cartilage and rip out the eyes,
This is what will happen to you when you die,
Adipocere
Adipocere
Adipocere
Adipocere
Find the mortician with the bag on his head,
watch him as he slices bits of flesh off the dead,
drinks away his whiskey as a means to atone.
He's never sober, he can't do it alone,
and so he sharpens his knives, sharpens his blade.
Close your eyes, it'll be okay.
Let's take a walk to where the vultures roam,
feast upon the body clean 'em down to the bone.
Strip away the cartilage and rip out the eyes,
this is what will happen to you when you die.
Seven hundred winged creatures waiting in line,
sixty seven eyes are focused watching them dine,
seven of the brethren are turning their heads,
this is how the village people bury their dead.
Adipocere
Adipocere
Adipocere
Adipocere