I have a cold...
And I feel the urge to express my misery through (badly written) rhyme.
The fist pain of a cold is the shifting stuffing of your head.
You're weak and cold and floaty and your nose is burnished red.
And down the back of your throat you feel a rough and sticky drain;
Even pills and bed and popsicles leave a cold just one big pain.
Now time for congested zombies to sleep.
The fist pain of a cold is the shifting stuffing of your head.
You're weak and cold and floaty and your nose is burnished red.
And down the back of your throat you feel a rough and sticky drain;
Even pills and bed and popsicles leave a cold just one big pain.
Now time for congested zombies to sleep.