Fever Island

(B Stephens, E Spicer, J Pezzati)

Hearts flash, and souls are burned from passion deep within
Tongues lash, and words turn then to long immortal sin
Street trash, it's scary when you start to know their names
Teeth gnash, no more sense, an empty sullen frame
Go and try to shake the curse that you still own
But the night & the thirst claim that you owe
Cleaving tight to the only things you know
Race the night, drink up, reload
Outland! Is this earth or some planet I don't know? What gland urged me my unholy seed to sow?
Now damned to Fever Island someplace south of Hell
One man always burning, thirsting in his cell
Thin line, stumble, stagger, will you live to tell?
Strychnine could cure this fever sending you to Hell
Quinine turned to vapor on your scorched & barren sand
No time left to gamble playing the last hand