Trapped in a hospice,
Strapped in a bed,
The Iron Matron,
Will soon see you dead.

She’ll hold you down,
With her awful icy stare,
She’ll take a rusty razor and shave your pubic hair.

The Iron Matron she comes...
To kill you all

No chance to run away,
And nothing you can say

She’s creeping to your room,
With needles for your doom

Better run away,
No-one to save the day

A demon in costume,
This ward becomes your tomb

Instruments to save life,
Are used for awful deeds,
The only smile she ever gives,
Is when she watches patients bleed,

You’ll never breakout,
From this hospital of death,
Her garter grips your throat,
As you draw your final breath