A plague on mankind, a pox on the planet
We are the surgeons of sickness and shit
Innocent bystanders are subjected to the horror
Our gruesome displays give rise to a furor
Bodies were piled and defiantly defiled
Up to our knees in blood, sweat, and bile
For the means to achieve our deviant needs
The guilty should die and the innocent bleed
Doctors of death, practitioners of pain
Morbid addictions cannot be restrained
A need to dismember, disfigure, and maim
By A.M.A. standards, we've gone quite insane
Hippocrates turning in his grave
The oath, broken, cannot be mended
From the realms of science we've strayed
And into the charnel house descended
Vitriolic tinctures substituted for plasma
Intra-venously rotted by a virulent miasma
Appendages unnecessarily amputated
To promote zero growth all were castrated
A myopic nurse doles out the bonesaw
The O.R. is now a functioning abbatoir
Prescriptions meted out for an untimely demise
Injections of fces, our malicious advice
Appointments were kept for the ceasing of lives
Our promise to heal, a pack of lies
A Hippocratic hypocrisy
When the pledge is defiled
The house of healing an atrocity
The list of victims we've compiled
Hung on a noose, drowned in the loam, sliced at the vein
Let flow the red
Choked on a pill, impaled through the brain
We belong dead
[solo: "The Flesh and the Fiends" by S.C. McGrath]
Our clinic raided by the authorities
Littered with corpses on all thirteen stories
We toiled long in the laboratories
Fueled by methamphetamines and forties
Wading through offal and excrement
Agents of law effect our detainment
