The fire burns a frigid cold,
The kingdom crumbles into mold.
Monumental statues fall in their stand,
Sparks float all about the granite and sand.
Death lives in every birth of icy flame,
Consuming the souls of innocents slain.
The boiling waters glaze over with frost,
The dark waters of Styx, surrounding life’s cost.
The soothing touch of death seduces the glacial throne,
Fallen prey to fire’s cold breath, the pumpkin into stone.
Josh 
You better call my mother fuckin’ ass before I shank you.
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