| Ticking off the subjects in a queue of the damned
|
| Fungible commodities to hoodwink and scam
|
| Devouring our meds as your body wastes away
|
| The side effects are cancer, rotten gums, and decay
|
| You can’t control the nausea or diarrheic shit
|
| We have a pill for that but it will cost you quite a bit
|
| The tumours are spreading and they won’t go away
|
| Poisons are injected to keep them at bay
|
| To counter the poison we have here a pill
|
| We can’t make you better if we don’t make you ill
|
| As tens of thousands die
|
| Our profits are sky high
|
| We’ll drain your coffers dry
|
| You are the dead
|
| A sordid little tryst
|
| We’re in up to the wrist
|
| It’s useless to resist
|
| You are the dead
|
| Choking down the meds through a bolus of snot
|
| If this is really living, I’d think you’d rather not
|
| Picking at your lesions can be such a crushing bore
|
| But our new antidepressant keeps you crying out for more
|
| You’ll need them when you find out how they’ve riddled your brain
|
| The boys down in the lab are making something for the pain
|
| You can’t get to sleep until you’ve been sedated
|
| The pain in your liver cannot be abated
|
| Your kidneys malfunction and your nerves are a wreck
|
| Just keep taking our pills and keep signing the checks
|
| Metastisizing, the cancer devours
|
| The Reaper grimly hovers
|
| Admitted to a hospice to rot on a mattress
|
| You’d better hope you’re covered
|
| Contagion
|
| Infection
|
| Solution
|
| Extinction
|
| Necrotizing flesh makes a mess of the bed
|
| The nurses don’t care because you are the dead
|
| Not long for this earth, you have to come to grips
|
| They’ve taken out the feeding tube and intravenous drip
|
| The light is slowly fading, the voices are unclear
|
| This has not been your year
|
| As tens of thousands die
|
| Your deductible’s sky high
|
| We’ll drain your coffers dry
|
| You are the dead |