MAGICA - REPRISE

And the games 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 it's on we sail
Never thinking that the wind could ever fall
No one gets to heaven till they're lived a while in hell
And even then it's rare
That you'll be going there

(aliens) Now we understand. All traces of magica must be eliminated.
Infection, infection, delete, delete, delete, delete.............