
Based on The Surgeon's Apprentice and other fictions created by Dr. Jonathan Womack โข โโโโโโโโโโโโฑเผ๏ธ โข เผ๏ธโฐโโโโโโโโโโโ โข ๐ฑ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ป๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฏ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ฒ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฌ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฎ๐๐๐๐ ๐พ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ฝ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฎ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐พ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐พ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฌ๐๐๐๐ 12, 1755 The boy's screams still ring in my ears. God help me, I had to pin him down myself while Harrison dug for the musket ball, the lead still hot and slick with blood. His father had spent their last shilling on laudanum, for all the good it did. I watched the man weep in the corner. I felt as helpless as this man, my hands today serving only to restrain rather than heal. โข โโโโโโโโโโโโฑเผ๏ธ โข เผ๏ธโฐโโโโโโโโโโโ โข Beneath the castle's watching eyes Where candles barely burn I hold a boy against the blade While lightning takes its turn Lead and laudanum, blood and rain Mercy's cruel design Transform these screams to something pure Like water into wine (Like water into wine) The monastery's northern walls Hide secrets in their stone Each thunderclap a cannon's call Each whimper, crack of bone Lead and laudanum, blood and rain Mercy's cruel design Transform these screams to something pure Like water into wine My father's ghost walks through these halls Father, do you know? What curse ed arts I summon here The sins that I must own? The Royal College cannot see What midnight makes me own I hold this deep inside of me This sin is mine and mine alone Lead and laudanum, blood and rain Mercy's cruel design Transform these screams to something pure