Are we lying comfortably?

I hope that you fear not

Your stay here shall be lengthy

Depending on just how quickly you rot 



Apply a quicklime mudpack 

Hinder circulation

Artificially inflicted gangrene

Hasten the maceration



Rendered impeccably clean 

Stripped to the ivory core 

The cleansing of your fetid flesh 

Revealing the divine gleam of bone 



Strings of muscle tissue

Yanked away with ease

Luckily I removed your tongue 

I'm distracted by agonized screams 



It probably won't hurt too much

The sedatives will bear you through

The pain eventually subsides 

When your nerve ends turn to goo 



Bound to be gored 

Intravenously fed

Destined to rot 

Your skin to be shed



Trimming off loose sinew

Your appearance is still a mess 

My psychopedantic maniacal glee 

Matches your distress



Cleanliness is godliness

Unbound by rank decay

I admire your skeletal remains 

As I hose your fetid carrion down the drain