Itching, scratching at my door
It is back and it wants more
Death is waiting right outside
Hurry, someone better have died
Burn him alive with a torch,
But then he'll only be a scorch
Better yet, shoot him in the heart
Use a blowgun with a poisonous dart
Take a blade to his head
Now here comes Death, like I said
Glad I wasn't the victim of that.
Death wants one more? Oh drat.
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