I feel so unsure,
As I cut you up,
I wonder what's that nerve for

What does this bit do?
I get so confused
I'm very sorry Mr Smith,
I've got some dreadful news

You're never gonna walk again,
I just cut your spinal column
Now you need a ventilator,
Just so you can breathe

I fucked up your operation,
But try not to be too solemn
Now you do a great impression
Of Christopher Reeve

Time can never mend
A careless surgeon's fuck ups, my friend
Not much we can do,
I hope that they don't sue
I'd better grab a telephone
And call the MDU

Everyday's the same
'cos I try to cure,
But I just kill and maim

All these body parts,
Kidneys look like hearts
It's hardly that surprising though,
Because I trained at Barts

And you're never gonna speak again,
Have to just make do with thinking
I'd be stupid to pretend
We'll ever hear you talking

Trapped inside your wheelchair,
Communicating just by blinking
Like that famous cripple,
Professor Stephen Hawking