The stage is set, please take your seats, it’s a show you won’t soon forget
The latrine’s down the hall, past the refreshments, by the exits where nurses
go blacken their lungs
Chains seal the doors at all of the wings
Though the doctors are in on it, cops won’t catch wind of it ‘till this place
is flooded in flames
In this hotel California guests wear their best—which are white matching sets
of straps and slacks
Why’s the raven like the writing desk?
The combine holds more behind their games of chess, checkerboards and cigarettes
Cause behind closed doors
Doctors see patients as specimens, gurneys, their cutting boards
And there’s no cure
Their attention’s detached while dosing their rats with precise choreography
Don’t judge too fast their intentions are masked behind deception
Don’t applaud now
Wait ‘till they tell you to, you’ll know by their queue
When patients start hacking, unaware of what’s happening
No one can stop what they do