[Verse 1]
Trace the arch up from the truncus, watch it lean to the right side,
Crossing over the right bronchus, that's the tell, that's the guide,
Quarter to a third of these babies wear the arch reversed like a mirror,
Left brachiocephalic goes first now, then right carotid comes clearer,
Right subclavian trailing last, the whole branch order's flipped inside out,
Same players, opposite stage — that's what mirror-image is about.
[Chorus]
Right arch bending over that bronchus, small hole breathing between the atria,
Thick valve leaking or choking traffic, coronaries hiding in strange behavior,
Thirty percent losing a piece of twenty-two, calcium dropping, thymus running thin,
No ductus waiting in the wings — this is the anatomy that rides with Type Two.
[Verse 2]
Now peek at the septum, don't panic, there's a modest little door,
A patent foramen, sometimes an ASD, a shunt that's small, not a flood on the floor,
Blood sneaks through at the atrial level, pressures find their common ground,
It's the quiet cousin at the table, rarely loud, but always around.
[Verse 3]
That single truncal valve is working overtime, doing aortic and pulmonic duty,
Leaflets thickened, dysplastic, stealing away at its beauty,
Might leak backward — regurgitation, might choke forward — stenosis instead,
Surgeons listen to that valve's story before they touch a single thread.
Then chase the coronaries like buried wire, one ostium or a wandering course,
Map them out before the RV incision, cut wrong and you cut off the source.
[Chorus]
Right arch bending over that bronchus, small hole breathing between the atria,
Thick valve leaking or choking traffic, coronaries hiding in strange behavior,
Thirty percent losing a piece of twenty-two, calcium dropping, thymus running thin,
No ductus waiting in the wings — this is the anatomy that rides with Type Two.
[Bridge]
Twenty-two Q eleven, the microdeletion creeping in the genes,
Thymus shrunk down to a whisper, immune defenses running lean,
Calcium sliding low on the numbers, watch it close before the knife,
Irradiated blood in the bag now, protecting a fragile little life.
And the ductus? Usually silent, closed up, nothing left to trace —
Unless the arch itself is broken, then it's holding open space.
[Verse 4]
So map the vessels, count the genes, check the calcium in the blood,
This isn't chaos, it's a pattern — a package, understood.
Right arch, small hole, sick valve, sly coronary, thin thymus, quiet duct,
Six companions riding shotgun every time the truncus gets constructed.
[Chorus]
Right arch bending over that bronchus, small hole breathing between the atria,
Thick valve leaking or choking traffic, coronaries hiding in strange behavior,
Thirty percent losing a piece of twenty-two, calcium dropping, thymus running thin,
No ductus waiting in the wings — this is the anatomy that rides with Type Two.