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



Judicial procedings