Rhys Langston - d**h by Diversity lyrics

[Coroner] It was a case of d**h by Diversity, the first the morgue had seen, though at the time, the cause of d**h was unclear. The corpse was hauled onto the slab, the unzipping of the body bag harping like a zydeco accordion. No identification nor clothes followed the body, its uncovered flesh a mid-tone grey in its lamplit rigor mortis. Many textures of hair sprouted from the disembodied scalp in the “evidence bag” beside the accompanying head. And, exhalation formed the face, a release from something shaping the transcontinental features. The precision of what seemed a tattooing needle had mutilated any body parts with potential of gender identification. The joints were neither folded nor extended, but a lifeless tightness held them immobile, fixed. The ankles, specifically, were locked so that the big toes conjoined. And, the left hand's fingernails had been chewed to bleed, while the right's untouched length dug into the palm of its clenched fist. Converse to the face, a steadfast clutching to some burden gave the body an action in d**h. This external suggested exsanguination, a loss of blood leading to the d**h, and it slowed my reaction to grab the scalpel behind me. My hand wavered at the first incision. The eyes of the decompressed face seemed to stare. Stare at me, at what I was doing. Upon opening the chest I found blood, intact organs and myself surprised, as if expecting something else. What else? There were no signs of extreme blood loss, even around the areas violent disfigurement. When my a**istant and I began the autopsy of the brain it became clear that several vasospasms went undiagnosed during the life of the individual. The signs of ... [Corpse] I do not want to think any longer, any more. There are countless pages filed away, stained with my rehearsed explanations. I do not want to read those, or any more. There have been enough 'why's' walking these halls, these steps, opening doors to places outside. And out there has become in here. Validating myself on foreign terms, confused as if mine. This difference. This difference. I can't stop thinking about the difference. My difference. My difference. My difference. My difference. My difference. My difference. My difference... [Coroner] It was d**h by Diversity, a psychological weight on the brain breaking down the very parts that enabled the fatal over-contemplation. I had never seen anything like it before, and I knew a medical explanation would not suffice for a full understanding. But in my position, there was no alternative.