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 am very sorry Mr. Smith
I've got some dreadful news
You're never going to walk again
I've just sliced your spinal column
Now you'll need a ventilator
Just so you can breath
I f**ed up you operation
But try not to be to solemn
You might not die for six more years
Like Christopher Reeve
Time can never mend
A careless surgeons
f** ups, my friend
There's nothing we can do
I'm buggered if you sue
I hope you get MRSA
And die on ITU
Every day's the same
'Cos I try to cure
But I just k** and maim
All those body parts
Kidneys look like hearts
O why did I do medicine!
I should have stuck with art
You're never going to speak again
You'll have to just make do with thinking
We'd be foolish to pretend
We'll ever here you talking
Trapped inside your wheelchair
Communicating just by blinking
Like that f**ing spastic
Professor Stephen Hawking