Within the halls of the infirm I inject, I slice, I make them squirm None can reveal Dressed in white, ushering their poisoned meals Overdosing Their grip of life, pragmatically closing I hold the blade to their mortal coil And they find sleep in the soil With syringe in hand They'll die as planned Their life I cease With morbid ease Sordid addiction The will to defile Innate, since birth A carcinophile Untraceable, intangible Feeding an infant With tainted lead Ejaculate As the tumor spreads A lethal dose of insulin Exposure to fatal pathogens With syringe in hand They'll die as planned Their life I cease With morbid ease The sickness, alluring The foul stench enduring The snapping of bones A delectable tone Of septic necrosis And cruel diagnosis The ghost of departure Is feeding on their helpless cries With syringe in hand They'll die as planned I deliver the sick Now who shall I pick Incisions cut so deep I bless them with eternal sleep And even if I fall I've honored him through infernal call