[Verse 1] Type Two don't build a bridge, it burns it at the source, no pulmonary trunk, no highway, no of course. Where Type One kept a stub, a short little stem, Type Two erased it clean, no MPA, no A1 kin. The truncus splits its wall like paper torn in half, two ostia punched out, posterior, no shaft. Van Praagh calls it A2, memorize the code— absence of the trunk is the sign that you're told. [Chorus] Dos agujeros, no hay tronco aquí, posterior wall, that's the ostia's home, sí. Type Two, Tipo Dos, separate but close, RPA, LPA, right where the wall goes. No hay tronco, no trunk, remember the rule— sin tronco pulmonar, that's the Type Two school. [Verse 2] Picture the back wall like a duplex, side by each, right and left artery got their own private breach. Not one hole branching like a fork in the road— two distinct openings, that's the anatomy code. Adjacent, posterolateral, close but they're apart, no shared chamber, no common departure cart. Type One's a fork, Type Two's a pair of twin doors, memorize the wall, not the vessel that pours. [Chorus] Dos agujeros, no hay tronco aquí, posterior wall, that's the ostia's home, sí. Type Two, Tipo Dos, separate but close, RPA, LPA, right where the wall goes. No hay tronco, no trunk, remember the rule— sin tronco pulmonar, that's the Type Two school. [Verse 3] Now the twist, the spiral, the crossed anatomy game— LPA rides anterior, superior, stakes its claim, while the RPA dips posterior, inferior, low, crossing paths mid-flight before the lungs they go. Or flip the script, reverse it, the pattern still applies, branches interlace like ribbons under the skies. Not a fault, a variant, teach it as it's seen— crossed courses live inside the borders of Type Two's scene. [Bridge] Millimeters, mira, that's the argument's edge— a stub so short it teeters on the ledge. Borderline entre Uno y Dos, a fuzzy line, call it a continuum, not a rigid sign. Anatomy don't always fit the boxes that we drew— sometimes the truth is somewhere in between the two. [Verse 4] Surgeons at the table, tracing every seam, counting up the ostia before they plan the scheme. Echo and the angio, cath lab confirms the view, CT reconstructs the wall to prove it's really Two. Because the repair changes with the pattern that you find, patch it wrong and the pressures fall behind. So the classroom chant becomes the operating creed— know your ostia, know the wall, know exactly what you need. [Chorus] Dos agujeros, no hay tronco aquí, posterior wall, that's the ostia's home, sí. Type Two, Tipo Dos, separate but close, RPA, LPA, right where the wall goes. No hay tronco, no trunk, remember the rule— sin tronco pulmonar, that's the Type Two school. [Outro] No trunk, twin doors, the crossing overhead— Type Two, tipo dos, now it's stitched in your head.
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