The sound of vomiting to my ears' like singing   Now I'm beginning to become erect   With illness I'm obsessed in the beds of the fallen I rest   A fixation amplified the smell here is what I like best      Feverishly combing the buckets of waste   Wrapping myself in the filth ridden sheets   Raping the shells of the comatose   To fulfill my needs      Photographing bedsores   Cultured by my sick neglect   It's more then a job   It's a love for me to walk this close with death      When you hear a flat line   You know surely I'll be near   To when the reaper's sickle is drawn   I am ever aware      I wish I could pull these strings   In death there are finer things   Malpractice forever be my bitter name      How quickly life does fade away   One flip of the rivers man coin   Could send you screaming to your grave      Grief stricken family watches on   Ceaseless prayers for an only son   I'm afraid that nothing can be done   The moment has finally come      The wrath of a God exemplified   To the pearly gates He'll soon arrive   To leave here his husk in this room of white   I'm quivering at thought      Pull the plug I'm begging you   Take the ride to the cold and blue   The reaper's yellowed lichen finger   Aims ever so true      The origins of disease   I have witnessed in my dreams   The flooding of the blackest blood   To quench my fetid needs      I wish I could pull these strings   In death there are finer things   Malpractice forever be my bitter name   I wish I could pull these strings   In death there are finer things