lirik lagu exhumed - dead end (live)
(in which most unwholesome paths are set upon by our protagonists, the future dr. knox and young william hare, to the chagrin of polite society)
“these heads of the profession convert the science of which they are ever chattering, into a mean and sordid trade, and those institutions which were founded in the purest spirit of benevolence and philanthropy, are transformed into warehouses of human wretchednеss” ~ the lancet newspapеr editorial 1829
“it is disgusting to talk of anatomy as a science, whilst it is cultivated by a means of practices which would disgrace a race of cannibals” ~ the lancet newspaper editorial 1832
“anatomy is the basis of surgery… it informs the head, guides the hand, and familiarizes the heart to a kind of necessary inhumanity” ~ william hunter’s introductory lecture to anatomy students 1780
“the outcasts of society, who, being pointed out as resurrection men, unable to maintain themselves by any honest employment and are driven to become thieves and housebreakers…” ~ benjamin brodie observations 1832
dr. knox: my occupation was a’calling, like a tumor, it within me swelled
a path some found appalling, that i would come to know so well
a cadaverous career awaited, the filthy task i’d undertake
with a gruesome thirst for knowledge, that only the dead could slake
my studies dismissed as morbid, incurring the headmaster’s scorn
my deathly imagination derided, and into the darkness borne
from clandestine forays into graveyards, to the operating theater’s grisly scenes
my bl~~dy studies dug ever deeper into the obscene and the unclean
narrator: for in death’s sleep what dreams may come?
and in death’s name, what deeds must be done ~
dr. knox: as an anatomist, a necrologist
but i’ll never be an apologist
my chosen path, to carve up stiffs
a career dismissed as a dead end
a surgeon’s trade, a butcher’s blade
you mourn a rest to which you won’t be laid
to serve my much derided trade
your legacy will fade to a dead end
solo – michael burke
hare: the pounding of my father’s coffin~nails beat a dolorous refrain
but by staving in those caskets, a richer living could be gained
my heart beat time with the hammer~falls, i learned to pluck men from the grave
and earned the name of “resurrection~man,” plying that reviled trade
narrator: for in death’s sleep what dreams may come?
and in death’s name, what deeds must be done ~
hare: as a resurrectionist, a necrologist
but i’ll never be an apologist
my chosen path, to dig up stiffs
a career dismissed as a dead end
dr. knox: a surgeon’s trade, hare: a wooden spade
dr. knox / hare: you mourn a rest to which you won’t be laid
to serve our much benighted trades
your legacy will fade to a dead end
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