Wounds on the Hands of Healers Lyrics

Those cuts on their hands, those open veins for poisoning
The marks of the virtuous demanding condemnation
The healers gather, forcing their claws into blood and filth
Self-sacrifice in the name of blight, relinquishment of virtue

A curiosity flared like a dying star, and realization dawned
That their hope was mere illusion, that their calling was a farce
So they huddle in piles of blood and of bile and they self-infect
And spread their disease to the wounded and wage war on righteousness

I search, I detect
I rape, I infect
I violate, I murder
I'm the wounds on the hands of healers...