The Book of Nails (Or: The Scream, Continued)

The Midnight Sun It Creeps Into My Eyes
Those Transylvanians, oh I do despise
Leave Me Alone, Or I'll turn you into stone
And feed on you like a spider feeds on flies

My head is pounding like a drummer's heel
These tragic figures, oh I just can't feel
My eyes are shot, and my hearing's all I've got
And I can hear my wounds as they refuse to heal

And It Occurs To Me
That I've no clue where I'm going
It Occurs To Me
That I'm very late for class
It Occurs To Me
That I'm falling quite behind
It Occurs To Me
That I'll pay them no mind

I have a paper due at twenty after
I have to write it on a hundred chapters
I haven't read any parts of what they've said
So let me stay right here and get drunk on my laughter

Salted like a snail in the Center of a Spoon
Fed like a Fowl to a Fiery Flume
It won't do you good, It won't do you nice
You should have stayed in the Gardens of Knight
You should have stayed in the Gardens of Knight
You should have stayed in the Gardens of Knight
You should have stayed in the Gardens of Knight
You should have stayed in the Gardens of Knight
You should have stayed in the Gardens of Knight
You should have stayed in the Gardens of Knight