I'm sick, my friend, with an illness serious and grave
that I cannot explain. It seems no one can save
me from certain convulsions of the modern age.
It's like some thirst for light, a lantern to a**uage
and guide me toward some unknown cure for my ills
so I might soon improve, because no hospitals,
no doctors have a clue about my lethargy,
my spleen, my anxiety.
What could it be,
this madness that envelops me?
My mind solves nothing, yet it's thinking constantly
about the medicine I really need, my friend,
so that I can catch a train to an arcane end,
healthy...