Magic Rocks

I hold three magic rocks, in my hand Rolling them over, and over, and over Leaving this reality behind, far behind They use to be in my gall bladder A magical place, where it is dark and stagnant Land of slumber, land of poisonous gases Land of cramping bloat, with a sulfur and brimstone moat Cellular creatures carry away the death Flushed from the world into a bright watery grave Incise the evil, release the magic Tickery, trickery, bamboozle me When I least expect it, you erupt into the colonic maze Leaving the body, weak and wasted, unable to defend the fortresses... Angels or demons converge apon the carcass, poking it with their probes Preparing it with ointment and spices, to send it into the tormentor Bleed vessels, bleed, give us all your life Partake of the concoction to ease your grief and pain...