Bring Out Your Dead...
Invaders came on phantom ships
Sailed the Black Sea to Sicily, yeah, yeah
The sick, the dying, and the dead
All that was left from this cursed disease, yeah, yeah
It was the fleas onboard that bit infected
Rats got blood inside of the fleas, yeah, yeah
Soon the ghost ships tied up to the docks
The path of the plague was complete, yeah, yeah
The sweet smell of rosies, a pocketful of posies
You can't mask the fragrance of death in their beds
There's typhus in the air, and ashes everywhere
Amongst the sick, the dying, and the dead
Feral creatures feasting on the dead
Devour rancid human meat, yeah, yeah
Death and sickness permeate their bones
Rich or poor, they're dragged through the streets, yeah, yeah
Open up your eyes, so you can see
All the sick, the dying, and the dead
Die, die, die!
The sick, the dying... And the dead
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