Magica - Reprise

And the games still go on

With a warning to the bishop from the pawn

No one sees an angel till it smashes to the ground

And then you run somewhere, and leave it lying there

Then on we sail

Never thinking that the wind could ever fail

No one gets to heaven till they've lived awhile in hell

And even then it's rare that you'll be going there

Now we understand

All traces of Magica must be eliminated

Infection, infection

Delete

Delete

Delete

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