Our hypothesis carried out on mortal remains Real-life application tests our conjectures It seems despite our scientific progress All we've proven is our abject failures
A foetid stench fills the air And with a pungent voice declares Though we prod a cadaver with care There is no life in there Altruistic notions aside And the experiments we've tried The veracity cannot be denied There is no cure for those who've died
Rot, waste, spoil, bilge
The cynics did maintain The dead shall dead remain Our theory proved insane The dead shall dead remain
A pallid visage stares in disgust Through sockets laden with crust At the bungle it would see in us If it were not destined to be dust Turgid corpses received first aid In our macabre palisade Volts unleashed in a fussilade But no twitch from this inert promenade
A canon of soulless masses Where no animation trespasses These patchwork men that lie about in heaps They reaped what we'd sewn, and showed what we reaped
This quartet can no longer sustain Beleaguered by a fatal admission Our covent's work in this abbatoir Blaspheme the sanctity of a physician
Rot, waste, spoil, bilge
The cynics did maintain The dead shall dead remain Our theory proved insane The dead shall dead remainTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
