I

unwell

there's something wrong with my head
they're trying to throw me in with all the dead
under the claws
of bird-faced doctors with their scented beaks
cawing

awful maws of the passed-away, released
open and begging

walk by the monks who used to call up Gregor's chants
now they're coughing up Gregorian lungs into their hands

skeletons dancing
round kings and round queens
something wrong with my head
all the dead dancing round the royalty
noble enough to tell me
there's something wrong

they're saying I'm plagued
but my skin's clean
my brain fell into one of the graves
rolled around in the bile and the pain
of the wretched and the thrashing
gotta get out

there's a place called
Ostrapalis
city where the mind and body split
gotta find it

something wrong
danse macabre, dancing along
following me
to Ostrapalis