Only the good die young
The horror the horror
So, that might not be true
Evil seems to die young too

'Tis the fault of Voltaire
I heard a child sing
As he ran into a flurry of ash whitened like snow
'Tis the fault of… (I don't know)

But, most die less heroically
And the most tragic of all
Me and you, who I hold so dear,
(Twenty lines are missing here)

And to think of dying once
Clutched in the arms of my dear friend
His eyes screaming sheer defiance
*The rest is silence