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