We Belong Dead

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. Are. Is now a functioning abbatoir Prescriptions meted out for an untimely demise Injections of fæces, 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 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 Judicial procedings with malevolent prejudice Our heinous crimes lack any precedence Horrifying facts and aggregious evidence The lives and deaths of medical deviants Bloodstained hands assure guilt, ipso facto Our lives are forfeit for theirs, quid pro quo Lethal injection, gas chamber, or the chair Corporeal punishment for our brand of intensive care