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 a while 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, delete, delete, delete, delete
Delete, delete, delete, delete, delete
Delete"