A Cold Death
They all hold a stick
With a fire in the middle
The ice is still slick
The fire is going down a little
One wanted to put down the stick
But didn't want to
Because these people's darkness is making him sick
He's starting to get the flu
One rich loner
Remembering his wealth
Now moaning
And getting low on health
Everyone died no doubt
Not the cold within
But the cold without
Fools you now have sinned
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