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