Death After Life

At Saint Julian's Medical University Four ambitious students are taking experiments into the nature of death a bit too seriously (Death after life) Driven by an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, they will live by the scalpel and cut down those who get in their way (Death after life) Experiments in murder, their aim is to answer the question - Is there a cure for death after life? (Death after life) Death after life...if you're lucky enough to die, pray that you stay dead

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Feb 06, 2026

Mondo Medicale music - Sean McGrath lyrics - Ross Sewage Grinding forth from the halls of education Replete with the stench of dessication Four pre-meds suffer condemnation Tomes were perused, tombs were abused All medico-legal limitations refused With inhuman dexterity and intelligence, infused Master thespians in the operating theatre Likewise endowed in a gorenography feature Deranged we may be after a blood bath But all that rots can't be studied intact Sifting through reams of anatomical charts Bisecting livers and dissecting hearts Arcane knowledge for doctoral upstarts Rooting through a chum ridden morass Cells scrutinized on iodized glass We've mapped the structure of a carcass (solo: "Destroying Galen" by J. Kocol) (solo: "De Fabrica Humani Corpus" by S.C. McGrath) Up to our elbows in grue and claret We proffer quite a sanguine display As we rule this mondo medicale With scalpels and blades prepared on the tray Integument cut and dermis to flay You will rue this mondo medicale Bypassing moral balances and checks Summistes on high, rewriting texts Our æsculapian methods leave them all vexed Surgical aspirations, all dignified Post-modern Versali, repersonified But for our successes, we're villified A trocar employed for psycho-surgery In this bedlam of hospitality Though flesh and blood are dead inside The gross anatomy can still be applied To raise the stakes of medicine's breadth These choice cuts ours, until death Our work is to die for so don't be a knave Choke on it and go back to the grave

Submitted by The Void — Apr 25, 2025

Gutless music - Ross Sewage lyrics - Ross Sewage Addressing inequities in inadequate techniques Surgical procedures, involved and unique My knife is a brush for a sanguine pallette Create a masterpiece with some bone and a mallet Hysterectomies for those who are insane Severing meninges to balance the brain Trephan the skull for a nervous disorder Tapping the vein to expunge fever Excoriate bubos with brand and cleaver Our professors believe we're out of order Suffering spinalectomies Their bellies, jaundiced Fusty minds, cowardly You're gutless Feint of heart and lothly With enfeebled stomachs Lily-livered and rafty You're gutless Without the risk, there's no reward We must experiment on our wards To elevate our science We will operate in defiance Committed to impuning progress Judicial officials are made to egress Our critics are given the axe The needs of many outweigh the few Profficide required for us to continue The research of cold, dead facts Restraining philistines Facing final justice Exscinding to the spine You're gutless Liberating omentum Of an aristarchus Usefulness just begun You're gutless Without the risk, there's no reward We must experiment on our wards To elevate our science We will operate in defiance Moral objectors will lose their tongues And guts and bones and brains and teeth and lungs Till they're gutless

Submitted by SerpentEve — Apr 25, 2025

If we make the incision here, we can minimize tissue damage... He's waking up Ah, professor, welcome back to the land of the living...at least...temporarily What's that? Cat got your tongue? Oh, that's right. We do. Right here in this jar Well you were saying such awful things about us... Hurry this up, here's a bonesaw Alright. We've got to take some other things from you now, professor Don't worry. It'll only hurt...until you die

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Feb 06, 2026

Preservation of Death music - Sean McGrath lyrics - Ross Sewage and Sean McGrath Their censure forced the decision Their murder forced by incision With furtive defiance I ended their lives My allegiance to the scalpel has reshaped mine Stuck with a codgerie of bodies My aims have something new to embody Flasks brimming with nutritive concoctions To stave off decay and exsiccation (solo: "A 50cc Solution to the Problem" by J. Kocol) In vials suffused with anti-decomposotes Concealed organelles, their discovery remote Preservation of... A post-mortem view to the nature of Death Preservation of... A looking glass through to the traces of Death With our crimes concealed, we've time to reveal Anatomical dogmas, so far not appealed (solo: "A Cabinet of Curiosities" by J. Kocol) (solo: "These Lips are Sealed" by S.C. McGrath) In perfect suspension, this gralloch begs the question Past this mortal coil, can we affect reclamation Preservation of... Channels replete through which we aim to cheat Death Preservation of... To our last breath, pursuing life after Death Information I'll procure from subjects matured In a gripe's egg of our preserving tinctures

Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 25, 2025

Wrought In Hell music - Jason kocol lyrics - Ross Sewage and Sean McGrath An eldritch study to beguile our throng The irons that now bind us will be proven none to strong Our asomatic nostrum, we'll work hammer and tongs My medical bag brims with surgical steel If they're the tools for the job, my work will reveal This apparati insufficient, I'll concede For death to be undone, custom tools we'll need Smelted steel prepared to be forged Instruments unimagined before - wrought in hell Bio-morphic blades cleave whet stones Slicing effortlessly through bones Spreaders and clamps and brackets to fasten For this craft we've found a passion - wrought in hell To antique equipment we'll not be resigned Utilizing pieces of our own design Bunsen burners conflagrate erlenmeyer flasks Burets are topped with bactericides distilled in casks Formaldahyde, ether, lividinous tinctures Medicinal vegetation we've culled A pestle grinds these pharmaceuticals - wrought in hell Toxic particulates mixed with saline The reagent turns a bright shade of green Through a rebreather, the stench is dulled As bellows are topped with chemicals - wrought in hell With tubing and pipe set into place This spectre of death we'll attempt to erase Tangled leads are wound around kaleidoscopic brains Wherein probes are intromitted in constipated veins Transformer required to break mortal constrains Turbines spin generating kinetic flow Conductive kneck bolts will direct the current to go AC/DC, electrical, jump-start the physiological (solo: "666 Kill-O-Watts" by J. Kocol) My medical bag brims with that we have decreed The tools of reanimation, now our work can proceed New innovations to revivify all things rotten Hearts will be made to pulse again with tools wrought in... Hell

Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 25, 2025

Resurrectionists music - Ross Sewage and Sean McGrath lyrics - Ross Sewage and Sean McGrath A hammer to drive the chisel in A chisel to alter bone and skin An algid stiff to now provide A link to where the soul resides That still hearts should pulse with ichor Is an ethical dilemma to be sure That a body can be made to function Is an enigma to decipher without compunction That the dead may in mere slumber lie Is a query that begs us to coax a reply That rotting lungs shall heave with breath Is truly a matter of life and death The ressurectionists The ressurectionists... no more death after life (solo: "Just a Few Stitches" by T. Spruance) Augers employed to crack and peel Gilding steel teeth with paste of bone meal Their skulls disassembled and scored With sanguine expectations, meticulously gored To reconnect nerve filled clusters Our encaphalic skill, we muster To reinstate arterial paths Our hands engage in a blood bath To reset joint and bone Our mending powers are hewn To restart cardial beating Our defibrullator is heating The ressurectionists The ressurectionists... no more death after life Intra-venously dripping a potion To rekindle locomotion Old hat at plundering lifeless shells But I shall never get used to the smell (solo: "The Funk of 40,000 Years" by S.C. McGrath) Sutures of catgut carefully stitched Securing intestines in torsal pitch Along the sciatic, nerves are defrayed In our conclave, bodies remade This brain in a solution submerged From a cranium we've purged This jellied ganglia to reconnect From the medulla to the neck This artery and vein shall rehydrate From pulmonary functions we'll resuscitate This human tabula rasa we've sewn From it, coaxed, secrets to life unknown The ressurectionists The ressurectionists... no more death after life

Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 25, 2025

I'm still registering a flatline on the EKG No pulse, no BP Is this defibrillator even plugged in? Affirmative, voltmeter shows full power Clear Increase the drip Forget the drip, give me 100 CC's of epi directly into the carotid Christ, the infectant's spilling out of his ass Abdominal edema, lower the valve pressure Still flatlining, negative brain function Ah, remove the ventral sutures and spread the ribs I'm going directly for the heart It's not working 500 CC's of atropine now in the left ventricle But that's enough to kill him Which really isn't a problem, considering he's still dead

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Feb 06, 2026

The Dead Shall Dead Remain music - Sean McGrath lyrics - Ross Sewage Our hypothesis carried out on mortal remains Real-life application tests our conjectures It seems despite our scientific progress All we've proven is our abject failures A foetid stench fills the air And with a pungent voice declares Though we prod a cadaver with care There is no life in there Altruistic notions aside And the experiments we've tried The veracity cannot be denied There is no cure for those who've died Rot, waste, spoil, bilge The cynics did maintain The dead shall dead remain Our theory proved insane The dead shall dead remain A pallid visage stares in disgust Through sockets laden with crust At the bungle it would see in us If it were not destined to be dust Turgid corpses received first aid In our macabre palisade Volts unleashed in a fussilade But no twitch from this inert promenade A canon of soulless masses Where no animation trespasses These patchwork men that lie about in heaps They reaped what we'd sewn, and showed what we reaped This quartet can no longer sustain Beleaguered by a fatal admission Our covent's work in this abbatoir Blaspheme the sanctity of a physician Rot, waste, spoil, bilge The cynics did maintain The dead shall dead remain Our theory proved insane The dead shall dead remain

Medical Waste music - Sean McGrath lyrics - Ross Sewage We have stared over the precipice of mortality And death's gaping maw could not be sated Our deviant feats could not attain immortality In shame, we vow our flesh to be uncreated Putrescence and filth, within our lab and within ourselves The mocking corpses bloat and distend This reeking rubbage will dispell When our lives, by our own hands, we'll dutifully end In vaporous rooms, veins swell to burst Anæsthesia is applied Scalpels lick our forearms and wrists Doctor assisted suicide Caught in the act, we are red-handed From the antibrachium, flesh is disbanded Anti-coagulants of our invention Will ensure no bloodflow retention Goblets are filled with the reagent Our work's micturation A toast is raised to time spent On failed experimentation (solo: "Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble" by S.C. McGrath) Noxious salves enkindling throats Congealing on tongues in coats With instruments we have fathered We'll proceed to disembowel eachother (solo: "Bungled Grind" by T. Spruance) Fraternal dissection Detritus of a cold cook... medical waste Keech of those that were burked... medical waste Sweetmeats hung from rusted hooks ... medical waste Maladroit surgical jerks... we're medical wastes Lacerated midsections... medical waste Sucking wounds fillling lungs... medical waste Our avulsed intestines... medical waste Errorist physicians... we're medical wastes Our characters are mortally wounded Teetotaciously rent corporeal shells And now our blood and grue is self-exuded For from icarian heights we fell (solo: "Live By the Scalpel, Die..." by J. Kocol) (solo: "Voluntary Suicide" by S.C. McGrath)

Submitted by The Void — Apr 25, 2025

Dead Alive music - Sean McGrath lyrics - Ross Sewage Shrouded by this mortal veil, something has gone wrong Engaging conscious thought, though we are dead gone A new beginning to the physiological But as we decompose, the pain is unbearable Cellular dissolution, structures in decay Our systems in disarray Glistening lividity on exfodiating skin Living decomposition From beyond the pale, we survive The pain of being dead alive Eyeballs exssicate As moisture dissipates The epidermis shrinks As a countenance sinks No marrow left to slake Dried bones as they break Muscles liquify As the skelature is nullified (solo: "The Living Dead" by S.C. McGrath) The abdomen distends With noxious gasses that offend (solo: "Life After Death" by J. Kocol) Organs dessicate A foul odor we execrate (solo: "Return of the Living Dead" by S.C. McGrath) Four disparate minds converge on one theorem Merits were to be had for our death-defying serum Decomposing and gutted, our existence it prolonged Though we have died, still we live on Post-mortem torturing, immortal suffering Pain receptors functioning Prone amongst detritus without ambulation No tomb, no rest, no supplication We suffer while our nervous systems thrive The pain of being dead alive We never wanted to revive The pain of being dead alive

Submitted by Corpse Grinder — Apr 25, 2025

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