[Verse 1] Not every cancer scatters wide like ash into the wind, Some stay small, a few lone outposts — oligo, that's the twin. Colon cancer sends its scouts to settle in the liver, Cut them out clean, give the patient forty, fifty percent to deliver. Five years out, half still standing, that's the number we believe, Metastasectomy ain't a myth — c'est vrai, mon ami, it can reprieve. [Chorus] Vingt, trente, quarante — vingt, trente, quarante, Twenty, thirty, forty, the liver math that saves us, ça compte. On coupe, on guérit, mais on garde assez de foie, Leave enough behind to live, remnant rule, c'est la loi. Vingt, trente, quarante, sing it till it's in your bones, The remnant's small but mighty — never cut it down to stones. [Verse 2] Twenty percent will do it if the liver's clean and spry, Thirty if the chemo's bruised it, battered, asking why. Forty when the scars of cirrhosis thicken up the frame, Leave too little tissue breathing, and the failure's got a name. Measure twice before you slice, the remnant is the key, No volume, no survival — it's simple surgery. [Verse 3] So when the healthy half is skinny, don't just walk away, Block the portal vein that feeds the half that has to stay, Portal vein embolization starves the doomed-to-go side clean, While the keeper swells up stronger than it's ever been. Or split it into two-stage, a hepatectomy in parts, Patience grows the remnant — slow and steady wins these hearts. [Chorus] Vingt, trente, quarante — vingt, trente, quarante, Twenty, thirty, forty, the liver math that saves us, ça compte. On coupe, on guérit, mais on garde assez de foie, Leave enough behind to live, remnant rule, c'est la loi. Vingt, trente, quarante, sing it till it's in your bones, The remnant's small but mighty — never cut it down to stones. [Verse 4] Now follow the spots that wander up into the pulmonary air, Sarcoma, colorectal — the lungs will harbor there. Pick the patient with a long and quiet disease-free stretch, Count the nodules, keep it few, that's the winning fetch. Pull the metastases out like weeds from garden rows, Selection is the secret that every good surgeon knows. [Bridge] Mais parfois on ne coupe pas, on brûle au lieu de trancher, Radiofrequency, microwave — cook it till it's done away. Stereotactic beams of light, precise comme une flèche, SBRT for the tiny ones too deep or too fraîche. Ablate it, radiate it, when the knife's too big a risk, Small mets, smart choices — c'est la vie, it's quick and brisk. [Chorus] Vingt, trente, quarante — vingt, trente, quarante, Twenty, thirty, forty, the liver math that saves us, ça compte. On coupe, on guérit, mais on garde assez de foie, Leave enough behind to live, remnant rule, c'est la loi. Vingt, trente, quarante, sing it till it's in your bones, The remnant's small but mighty — never cut it down to stones.
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