SirTwigmeier

We hear tales of a doctor, they say he's quite grim He'll have you picked up off the street on a whim Taken to where he works, the abandoned hospital Try to escape, to him it's quite comical In the rooms, run down, live common thugs Punks hyped up on mind altering drugs They drag you, nails screeching on the floor Into a room with lab scrawled on the door On this table you'll be stripped of humanity You'll be altered, disfigured, lost to insanity All to perfect his mad methodology A mere stepping stone of twisted biology Mutants, monsters, the abominations he creates Unflinching servitude is their fate