The Nidink rooms have seen strange sights,
But the strangest at any cost,
Was on the eve of Halloween,
We cremated the immortal Lost.
It was the eve of Halloween
Spirits restless with await,
For Lost was in Nidink patrolling
Unaware of his future fate.
The banshee screamed from the mountain far
As the earth began to groan,
The wind whispered secrets of a plan well laid
The chilled the blood to the bone.
The fires burned and cauldrons churned
As the night turned black as coal,
All agreed to pay the devil his dues
As we offered up Lost's soul
Now the story goes, or was foretold
That Lost was a devious man,
But the flames of despair, none could compare
As he turned to a pile of sand
Up from the blaze our eyes did gaze
Upon his charred debris,
With an evil grin, He declared his win
Nidink would never be “Lost” free.
The Nidink rooms have seen strange sights
But the strangest at any cost
Was the eve of Halloween,
We cremated the immortal Lost.
