The Cowardly Few by Draxsen
Out on the streets their there,
The bustling crowds hinder their way
And without fear they press on and on.
So in our sheltered homes we wait patiently,
'Til the cowering few
Breath their final breath
And so the plague it spreads,
Selecting prey randomly
Our so it would seem.
So the bodies they mound, and the people feed on the lies,
Feed by the cowering few.