Lyrics
“Nodule of the Center”
(Verse 1) I am the nodule of the center, The bronchiolar, small adventurer. I am not random, I am not lost, At any cost, I don’t accost The outer wall, the pleural line, That border is not mine, not mine.
(Chorus) Oh, I’m the Centrilobular spot! I’m not the random, miliary dot. The pleura and the fissures here Are spared! My sign is crystal clear. I point you to the airway’s heart, And that is where your diagnosis starts.
(Verse 2) I am the sign that something’s spread Not by the blood, but by the airway instead. I am the small bronchiole’s trace, The inflammation in that place. On CT scan, my sign is key: I’m “a few millimeters” deep!
(Chorus) Oh, I’m the Centrilobular spot! I’m not the random, miliary dot. The pleura and the fissures here Are spared! My sign is crystal clear. I point you to the airway’s heart, And that is where your diagnosis starts.
(Bridge) But what am I? Look for the clues. Am I a “Tree-in-Bud” that spews From an Infection, wet and low? (Bronchiolitis’s dirty show). Or am I GGO, a hazy, faint, And upper-lobe, (an HP complaint)? Or from the smoke, a smoker’s plea? (The Respiratory Bronchiolitis-ILD).
(Chorus) Oh, I’m the Centrilobular spot! I’m not the random, miliary dot. The pleura and the fissures here Are spared! My sign is crystal clear. I point you to the airway’s heart, And that is where your diagnosis starts. I am the nodule of the center, The bronchiolar, small adventurer. I am not random, I am not lost, At any cost, I don’t accost The outer wall, the pleural line, That border is not mine, not mine.
I am the dot, the “intralobular,” But in the middle, not peripheral. I am the sign that something’s spread Not by the blood, but by the airway instead. I am the small bronchiole’s trace, The inflammation in that place.
On CT scan, my sign is clear: The pleura and the fissures here Are spared! I’m “a few millimeters” deep, A central promise that I keep.
What am I? Look for other clues. Am I a “Tree-in-Bud” that spews From an Infection, wet and low? (Bronchiolitis’s dirty show).
Or am I GGO, a hazy, faint, And upper-lobe, (an HP complaint)? Or from the smoke, a smoker’s plea? (The Respiratory Bronchiolitis-ILD).
So I am not just any spot, I am the Centrilobular blot. I point you to the airway’s heart, And that is where your diagnosis starts.
I am the nodule of the center, The bronchiolar, small adventurer. I am not random, I am not lost, At any cost, I don’t accost The outer wall, the pleural line, That border is not mine, not mine.
I am the dot, the “intralobular,” But in the middle, not peripheral. I am the sign that something’s spread Not by the blood, but by the airway instead. I am the small bronchiole’s trace, The inflammation in that place.
On CT scan, my sign is clear: The pleura and the fissures here Are spared! I’m “a few millimeters” deep, A central promise that I keep.
What am I? Look for other clues. Am I a “Tree-in-Bud” that spews From an Infection, wet and low? (Bronchiolitis’s dirty show).
Or am I GGO, a hazy, faint, And upper-lobe, (an HP complaint)? Or from the smoke, a smoker’s plea? (The Respiratory Bronchiolitis-ILD).
So I am not just any spot, I am the Centrilobular blot. I point you to the airway’s heart, And that is where your diagnosis starts.