The bleak sun rises through the smog stained clouds

The day begins in a very somber way

The stench of the dead in the Manchester morgue

The stench of sterilized deacay...

The hideous signal...

I open my eyes, livid with sweat

Obnoxious film... but where have I been?

Strapped to the table, burning fluids course within my veins

Mortific eyes cannot dissuide that I see...

My plight is realized, I am dead but I see...

I feel the pain of the rush of formaldehype,

The brittleness of my bones

And they said I would never live again

The buzzing in my brain

The never ending pain

The hunger I possess

Within this rotten mess

I break the straps and rise to feed

The necrotic fluid bubbles, human viscera I need

Corner the fightened doctors, they say this cannot be

As I devour their pulsing flesh, their blood will comfort me



My cohort rise from their crypts

The morgue is in terror,

blood rolls from our lips

Some mangled bodies strewn in chaotic disarray

Breakfast is served at the Manchester morgue

The beginning of a horrifying day...

No end in sight

Our number multiply