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 remain