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What'll I do till my fingers dry? Till the messy little grabbers get their way? I would cancel all the answers in the wink of an eye Just to give my hands a decent place to play I don't wanna hear about your poor, private hell I don't need to see you scars or count your tumors I'm corrupt, and I'm feeling swell Why do you complain so often when your disease is nicer? Your disease is nicer Everybost trusts in me that I'll make them well Now I'm here to put an end to all those rumors When you meet my prize personnel You're as good as in your coffin, 'cause your disease is nicer Your disease is nicer than mine Standing all day in a sterile room Can leave a surgeon feeling kinda drained I'm bored with all your bleedin' and I'm sick of your doom You're only here to keep me entertained Year after year, my practice thrives And I still treat my patients all the same I play with their emotions and collect on their lives And someone else will always get the blame Aus Songtexte Mania