We have stared over the precipice of mortality
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And death's gaping maw could not be sated
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Our deviant feats could not attain immortality
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In shame, we vow our flesh to be uncreated
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Putrescence and filth, within our lab and within ourselves
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The mocking corpses bloat and distend
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This reeking rubbage will dispell
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When our lives, by our own hands, we'll dutifully end
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In vaporous rooms, veins swell to burst
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Anæsthesia is applied
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Scalpels lick our forearms and wrists
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Doctor assisted suicide
|
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Caught in the act, we are red-handed
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From the antibrachium, flesh is disbanded
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Anti-coagulants of our invention
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Will ensure no bloodflow retention
|
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Goblets are filled with the reagent
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Our work's micturation
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A toast is raised to time spent
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On failed experimentation
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(solo: "Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble" by S.C. McGrath)
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Noxious salves enkindling throats
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Congealing on tongues in coats
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With instruments we have fathered
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We'll proceed to disembowel eachother
|
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(solo: "Bungled Grind" by T. Spruance)
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Fraternal dissection
|
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Detritus of a cold cook... medical waste
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Keech of those that were burked... medical waste
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Sweetmeats hung from rusted hooks ... medical waste
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Maladroit surgical jerks... we're medical wastes
|
|
Lacerated midsections... medical waste
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Sucking wounds fillling lungs... medical waste
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Our avulsed intestines... medical waste
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Errorist physicians... we're medical wastes
|
|
Our characters are mortally wounded
|
Teetotaciously rent corporeal shells
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And now our blood and grue is self-exuded
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For from icarian heights we fell
|
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(solo: "Live By the Scalpel, Die..." by J. Kocol)
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(solo: "Voluntary Suicide" by S.C. McGrath)
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|
-----------------
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Medical Waste
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| Impaled |