The cold outside lays waste to life. Suspends the process of decay.
Alone without a friend suffer as night becomes the death of day.
This is the season of the fire, this is when the reaper crawls.
Feed the flames and make them higher. No sanctuary behind four walls.
Red sky at night, the shepherds delight but nothing left by the morning.
In the town they feel safe, fools like flies their friends are falling.
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