• Lyrics: play full screen play karaoke
• Cornography - Brad Paisley
• Gorenography - Impaled

The Grand Old Op'ry Theatre proudly presents
Cornography, Kung Pao, episode two
The continuing adventures of the Kung Pao Buckaroos
The three cowboys needed a place to bed down for the night
So I suggested the establishment of Miss Kitty May
Or she may not
A former love and a woman of questionable repute
So they walked into the saloon and asked for Miss Kitty
And just then, they heard a voice saying
"Hi, boys, you lookin' for these"
And the littlest cowboy turned around
To see two huge 38s pointed right at his face
Jimmy, you can't say that
What? She had huge guns
Smith and Wesson revolvers
Oh boy, were they loaded, oh brother
Cornography
She's aiming them right at us
Softer, George, it's more effective
She's aiming them right at us, everybody duck
Not you, Jimmy, you stand up normal
They dropped the money they owed her and she bent over to pick it up
And, oh, that moon was beautiful, now Jimmy, you can't say that
Out the window, I couldn't see it till then George
Oh, there were mountains in the way
Cornography
You guys are gonna get in trouble for this
That woman sure chaps my, ask her out then
I think he's got a little thing for her, George
Louder, Bill, it's more effective
I think he's got a little thing for her, George
It's not that little
That was worth a three or four, Bill
All right, Jimmy, let's get serious now
So the little cowboy was tryin' not to act too excited
But when I look at a woman that beautiful, it's hard
Jimmy, what, it's very difficult
I hope they're not recordin' this, yeah, ah
Cornography
And I said, "Cowgirl, how would you like a little cowpoke?"
Here we go, ooh yeah, need a little buckaroo?
In your dreams short barrel
Bum chicka bow wow, oh my God
So the Kung Poo Buck, Kung Poo
So the Kung Pao Buckaroos rode off into the sunset
Tune in next time for more action and romance

Latent Images in solutions submerged
A gallery of gore for posterity preserved
Your visage shall endure long after you've been laid to rest
Immortalized in celluloid as record of your death...
A recremental work of art
Artuated straight from the heart
Your destiny is black and white
A grisly study in still life
A kalopsic collage is your patchwork grave
The cutting room floor is where you spend your last days
Anonymous atrocities, my subjects are the dead
An amateur gorenographer cutting off heads...
Glistening gralloch, a zoetrope of rot
exenterated torsos coacervate and clot
Veristic works of art are developed and displayed
decomposed and posed as I prepare another plate...
On my nefandous noctuary I diligently toil
For a carcass exfodiated from hallowed soil
An axunge prepared to grease the gears
Lacking my wit, kin may shed tears
Cohesive structure is what you lack
A poultice of plaster will fill in the cracks
Sculptures in flesh are my medium du jour
Your puniceous effigy I faithfully restore...
Abdomen is spliced and the lighting is set
I'll develop your roll as my ensanguined subject
Holes drilled in your skull form a camera obscura
This document of death will be rather thorough
My scrapbook of horror is your final epitaph
Pictures from the after world, a corpse photographed
Your countenance embossed in silver gelatin
A gruesome reminder of your untimely end...
A test sheet is used for the final cut
Through trial and error I make my decision
The template enlarged to a grainy print
This excoriated exhibit, my final revision...
(solo: “Welcome to the Bone Room” by Ld Muerte)
(solo: “Matted and Framed for Decay” by SC McGrath)
Artistic license I must take
Depleted bones I'm apt to break...
I strike the set, this shoot is a wrap
Your casket occluded with residual scraps
The harvest I find in a moldering crate