The Butchers Shibboleth Lyrics

Lubing up the machine which is set to erase
Left over waste, never to be traced
Grinding the excess remains from my post-mortem pile
Snorting the dust, I am a necrophile

The smell is rank, my creation is dank
Forcing the crank, my expressions are blank
You too can create the drug of death
And become part of my shibboleth

Creating the stew, only takes a few
Prep the seed, but don't clean

The recipe is as follows:

To achieve the infinity high
First, Mummify your supply
Then, putrefy and toxify to liquify
Any emotions, you must nullify

Preserve it in sight, with no sunlight
In a healthy pool of phosphite
Don't worry about the Fahrenheit
Just make sure it is timed right

Decomposition ripeness is the key
Wait a month or two, maybe three
Make sure there is meat and flesh
You're looking for a green orange mesh

Once done, strain the vat
Scrape out the splat
Let dry, and dehumidify
Once emulsified, grind out the fungi

Fine powdered dust
Abuse the soylent husk
Partake in the crematorial intake
And you too, will awake

Partake in the crematorial intake
And you too, will awake