Blaze of the Lich

Deep in the crypt of Skullbone Ridge, They sought the Lich who lived under a bridge. He once rolled blunts with pharaohs' hair, And smoked a ghost out of thin air. They tiptoed past traps and cursed weed snacks, Got spooked by skeletons with Zig-Zag packs. Then from the smoke came a voice so dry, “Who dares disturb my eternal high?” It’s the Blaze of the Lich, the chronic undead, With glowing red eyes and a crown on his head. He doesn’t want gold, nor souls to claim— Just a hit of green that burns like flame. He sparked his bone pipe, the tomb lit bright, And summoned snacks in the dead of night. He blessed the crew with magic trees… Then forgot their names and floated off in peace.