Upon the ground I ever glide,
None truly ever by my side.
Even dust to me is death,
All because of Ender's Depth.

Therein that land at end of all,
It was there we took that fall.
If only I'd that ball not thrown,
Then I'd have shared the ender throne.

But alas reflex betrayed me,
As that man his eyes displayed me.
In my fear that ice did fly,
And in my fear our kingship dies.

So few escaped, lost in the deep,
Only in snow swept back from sleep.
It is our curse from ender hands,
That we are cold throughout the lands.

Now we roam with fear as said,
But with pumpkins on our head.
For as Steve said, and we did find,
The Endermen to them are blind.

And once again, we found a way,
To live in half, extend our stay.
Those men fear water as a hearse.
And so to us, it lifts a curse.

But alas, water's lasting print,
Soon helps no more just like a splint.
So if the desert we may see,
Its dryness to our death is key.

So it is life, through freeze and harm,
We must avoid their cursed charm.
If in the end with darkness we're joint,
To spread that cold is our only point.

Quietly we are left to despair,
But bring it to others? We wouldn't dare.
So though our lives towards sadness bend
With others's joy we are content.