It’s cold outside the castle;
Darkness rules the land.
Men dressed deep in whispers,
weapons in their hands.
They stand with iced-precision,
True North in their eyes;
Guards against intruders,
Wearing snake-skin covered lies.
When light comes in the morning,
Death will ride along,
Bringing bloody calculations,
Scented ribbons, & a song.
But now’s the time for waiting,
No hint yet of a fight —
Just mists & dreams, clouds & steam,
Swirling in the Night.
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