Take the scalpel, prep the
blade, insert the syringe
into the vein,
in surrender they wait,
you numb their pain,
doctor of diseased fate
your hypocrisy leaves
bloody stain, admit defeat
in this treacherous game
You wince at tales of
human sacrifice, tales from
the tribes of the old,
you fail to see you set the
same price, of human life
in trade for gold
You cut out the heart
that beats to bleed,
you feed the soul with infinite
need, your precision with incision
is the catheter of your greed
You pick apart the limbs
and lives of children of your
iron lies, who come to you to
ease their pain, to give them
rules, to feed their shame
You are nothing more than
outgrown clothes, your tired
wired mind is closed
open only to the dose
of another prescription, another
pill, another signing of the deal
"Leave your soul to me"
you say, " I will operate the kinks
away, I'll fix you up, and
bring you down, I'll stitch
your skin and make you free
of all the ills you claim to be,
till once again you must succumb
and allow me once more
to make you numb."