Letra de Inpropagation
"A body is committed to a public mortuary. Any victim of sudden or unexpected death will be brought here for a post-mortem by a pathologist; their job is to establish the cause of death. But sometimes a body is unrecognizable. Then it is vital, especially if murder is suspected, to establish identity."Insipid fumes bellow from the atrabilious chimney Whilst in the sanctified crevet I calmly pillage and rake For hot dry powdered human slag Still steaming in the crematorium's grateBio-organic ebullition, bones tar, tallow dehydrates For my deleterious horticulture so that I may cultivateYour mortal mechanism dies - in nutrients rich In the hallowed turf you lie - just for the takingCharred sinew's as good as lime, no phosphates do I need Deteriorated flesh used as top-soil, to replenish and nourish seed Spreading this human potash, as ash matured Recycling my rich harvest, bring out your dead For use as manureIrrigating tears are shed, but the ground still must be fedTipping and dusting up the spilt contents of urns Every morsel that glows like ember on the fire Extinguishing all hope of beatrific dispatch These charred chassis desiredExequiet rites now performed, a coronach sooting up the flu Enter my execrable inferno, even in the after-life there's work to doThe nitrogen content's high - but the flesh is weak At the graveside mourners cry - you're never to wake againBurnt brisket renews the ground, to germinate my seed Cremated bodies are my spoil, to use them as plant-feed Ploughing this abhorrent human manure Seeding my rich harvest, bring out your dead For the soils to devourDry the dead are bled, because the ground must be fed And there's still no rest for the deadI propagate - dust in the grate Ashes to ashes - dust to dust, diluted in water and sprayed on crops Charcoal, fats, flesh and soot fertilising pasture with active fertile rotIncumbent - latent calories are spentAshes to ashes - dust to dust renewing the land with corpses corrupt Mortuary scrapings, hearses a must, to the hot hearth the deceased are trussedHarvesting the defouled, to fertilize my soil Rejuvenating the spent with my fecundate spoilsReaping the gone, to nourish the land Replenishing exhausted pasture with my uncanny sleight of hand Restoring the unnatural balance, sowing my seed Defalcating the departed, I rapt and gleanSo I recite my contrite lament, lacrimation for the dead Where should stand row upon row of cold grey remembrance stones My cash crops now grow