From an illness at birth,
Or from a rat's bite in the past,
Even riding on the surf,
The plague strikes at last
People coughing up blood,
Not knowing if they should have fled,
Bodies piling up in the mud,
The plague brings the axe down on man's head.
The world is quickly emptying,
Only some surviving,
The humans couldn't be seeing,
Why the world had to be dying.
It happened before,
And it happened again,
The plague soon became no more,
And nearly won when it began.
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