And the games still go on
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With a warning to the bishop from the pawn
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No one sees an angel till it smashes to the ground
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And then you run somewhere
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And leave it lying there
|
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Then on we sail
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Never thinking that the wind could ever fail
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No one gets to heaven till they've lived awhile in hell
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And even then it's rare
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That you'll be going there
|
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Now we understand. All traces of Magica must be eliminated.
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Infection. Infection. Delete, delete, delete, delete, delete,
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delete delete delete delete...
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|
-----------------
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Magica - Reprise
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Dio |