From the recording The Italian Pathologist
Music and lyrics by Che Prasad
Che Prasad: Guitar, banjo, ukulele, accordion, vocals
Mikie Lee Prasad: Guitar, mandolin, piano, vocals
Kaveh Rastegar: Bass
Meschiya Lake: Vocals
Michael Urbano: Drums and Percussion
Dave Bell: Lead guitar
John Howard and Chris Franklin: backing vocals
Cover art: Ken Jacobs and Adam Koford
Lyrics
The Italian Pathologist
Pointing out sights that everyone sees
His eyes are trained to find disease
An unlocked gait, he’ll gladly show
You places only priests would go
A bottle bubbles with homemade wine
The top blows off, an unpleasant surprise
The theater that his wife imposes
He prefers one that exposes
The insides that you try to hide
To show your weakness, dissolve your pride
A lonely leg hangs in his shed
Be his guest, you’ll be well fed
Golgi’s lamp, a microscope
The shroud of Turin he calls his cloak
He makes a choice, but you can’t choose
Diagnosis you can’t refuse
The theater that his wife imposes
He prefers one that exposes
The insides that you try to hide
To show your weakness, dissolve your pride
“I did it on the poor boy” Who knows what it means?
Don’t ask him to explain. He won’t say anything
A blind cat, an old lady’s ghost
“if it lives, it will live” his son would boast
He parks on sidewalks, or where he pleases
His eyes are trained to find diseases
The theater that his wife imposes
He prefers one that exposes
The insides that you try to hide
To show your weakness, dissolve your pride
Hospital halls in Italy
Master of Pathology