Disorder, Disorder, my newly-found friend,
when Order finds me, our reign will end.
Judging and thinking I have not a base,
Order will swoop in and stifle my pace.
So please, Disorder, help me remember
that when freezing to death, you are my ember
and when trekking through these rigid lands
I can still create fire with my frozen hands.
That fire can roar and burn into the night
and signal old Order that we’ll be alright.
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