Morgue Angel

The acrid stench I feel the death surrounds
I see the bodies filed in drawers, toes tagged, of the murdered and the drowned
Every torso has a story to tell
From natural deaths, to torture to those who did it themselves

I loved the sight of brand new bodies laid on display
I used to count the types of death the world gave to me
Looking down at my cold grey rigid siblings
I gently move assorted body parts just to see

Where the skin is black, to see where in the body blood still remains
The bloated torso, in the second stage of decay

Odor, color changes putrefaction
Another addition to my decomposing kin

Morgue Angel
Morgue Angel
Morgue Angel
Morgue Angel

The acrid stench I feel the death surrounds
I see the bodies filed in drawers, toes tagged, of the murdered and the drowned
Every torso has a story to tell
From natural deaths, to torture to those who did it themselves