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Lyrics

Yes I have done many deeds that righteous men condemn
But when it comes to pestilent matters, there's no one else to send
When you smell malignancy, and the vicar close his door
Then you know all must suffer, man or child, rich or poor

You all must yield to the avenging lord
Still I will come to heed your word

Lyrics continue below...

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I get my hands dirty
I bleed the pain away
You show where it's rotting
With surgical imprecision
Works dr. Plague

The doctor comes to scourge the town, So pay the doctors fee
Through mud he rose, through ash and reek, A wicked craft indeed
Wearing boots of Morrocan leather, spectacles of black
With Tubes and Cords at his command, there'll be no fighting back

Surrender to the glory o' the avenging lord
And he will come to heed your word

I get my hands dirty
I bleed the pain away
You show where it's rotting
With a degree in epidemics
Works Dr. Plague

Writer(s): Edgar Zan

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