Lyrics:

Your dry throat creaks without a saliva to sputter As your pulpy dehydrated tongue soundlessly threshes Days without sustenance spent shackled and fettered Emaciated torso aches for the warm taste of flesh... I will make a meal of you, your hunger I'll sate Saw off your leg at the knee to put on your dinner plate Try not to wince at the pain that you feel As I mince up your calf to prepare your next meal... Cauterise the gargled wound to stave off the haemorrhage You should savor the thought of your repast Choke down this bitter meal in spite of your revulsion Though how long can your source of food last? Keeping yourself alive as you're force-fed your own flesh If you don't eat up, you're truly dead meat Legs turned to stumps, bloody drinks gargled in clumps In this case you really are what you eat... AUTOPHAGOUS GLUTTONY CULINARY PATHOLOGY DIETARY BUTCHERY CONSUMING IMPULSE Ingest your corpse to be... Quadriplegic you feed as your dinner is served Waste not ; want not, though there's not much to conserve Severed and severely served upon a platter of splatter After a while the source of the sustenance barely even matters... Now a half-eaten torso gorged to the glut Piece by piece you are fed the chicest cuts As the dinner-bell rings your bloody chops are feverishly licked At the sight of your own roasted fat turned and browned on a spit... Your own meat in your mouth tastes bitter and internecine Noxious and moist, you get a taste of your own medicine Gnashing, pieces of your limbs with delight Digesting your death with each grotesque bloody bite What's eating you? The question seems to moot Scraping chunks of your feet out of your