Algor Mortis... The Linear Rate Of Cadaveric Cooling Lyrics - Singles - The County Medical Examiners

Ravaged, torn, and punctured-the carcass oozes from 

multiple wounds 

Avulsed and sliced, the dermis weeps pus and purge 

fluid with clear, viscous goo 

Prior to the initial incision, before my scalpel is 

baptized bloody wet 

We determine the postmortem interval using a simple 

algebraic formula for death... 

A direct body core temperature measurement, 

postmortemly taken, is the order of the day 

The corpse is lifted on its side and a slit in its 

pants is cut in the most delicate way 

Lacerations leak wasted heat and fluid, as the body 

cools in a predictable manner 

My assistant lubricates the thermo-couple probe, a 

massive 12-inch long chemical thermometer... 

...Freezing hold... 

...Corpse gone cold... 

...Cooling blood... 

...An icy flood... 

...The body a husk; its innards are spilt... 

...This ferocious anal probing causes no guilt... 

...A facet of my profession, this duty I've sworn... 

...I stab forth the thermometer as the anus is torn... 

Environmental conditions of the crime scene are 

meticulously recorded 

And the room temperature of the dissection room is 

dubiously noted 

The core temperature of the carcass plummets through 

means of convection 

Physical science triumphs over life as heat escapes 

through radiation... 

Moritz's formula is the rule of thumb from which I can 

derive... 

"98.6F - rectal temperature ? 1.5" 

This equation produces the time of death, though 

nothing is quite this ideal 

Whether oral, rectal, brain or liver, I shall monitor 

the temperature with the greatest zeal... 

This gelid method of detection has a cold-bloodedly 

frigid appeal 

Observe the sanguine-streaked suppuration chill, pool, 

and congeal 

Witness my barbarous severe intubation with 

unsanitized tools 

Truculently sodomizing corps-icles, making purple raw 

recta drool... 

...Freezing hold... 

...Corpse gone cold... 

...Cooling blood... 

...An icy flood... 

...Postmortem interval, the mystery at hand... 

...Thrusting the probe past the prostate gland... 

...The carcass is conquered by deaths cold will... 

...Not even bactericidal rot can thwart its chill...