Scalpels cleave and reave though crimson rivulets

Weaving their cold and malignant minuets

Carving out funereal figures in arcane alphabets

Scars that will never heal or forget...



Like puzzle pieces, set askew, you've come undone

The bleeding is ceaseless, you're turning blue, the end had begun

Set down in writing, flesh, blood and bone, let death be done

The pen is as mighty as the sword, sticks or stones, your end would be cast

in stone, by either one...



[Lead - Mike]



Tenderly thanatographical threads are tread and traced

Boiling blood will serve to warm this cold clinical embrace

A clean precise cut to mark this morbid meeting place

This knife - point where you and death came face to face...



The slab starts to spin around and around, as I take your hand in mine

We move step by step within, without so much as a sound, death's dark design

in time

A slice to the left, then cut back to the right, movements scripted in this

dance of the dead

Motions so deft, recalled by touch not by sight, footprints encrypted by

blood running red...



A pirouette on razor's edge leaves you breathless

The slab plays host to an incisive macabre ballet

A savage, slicing slaughter of the senses

Now splayed...



UNDER THE KNIFE - your death hangs in the balance, on the edge of the blade

REMEMBER EVERY SLICE - of this jigsawed demise, and every part that I payed

COLD STEEL BURNS LIKE ICE - leaves you dancing on nothing, loosed by

unsteady hands

UNDER THE KNIFE - The caress of steel, just before the end...

Just before the end...



[Lead - Matt]



A bleeding patchwork design, in running scarlet writ

Connected wounds intersecting from slit to bloody slit

Such a tangled web of