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Whatever happens, it is a gamble

No absolute future written

Win or lose, it won’t make no difference

In a greater game

Where the pleasure was to play

By our own hand, living doomsday

Heading for the sun, the eternal run

Out in the cold

When we were born; the world that we faced

Was already dying of old

Where the pleasure was to play

By our own hand, living doomsday

It may all be for naught

They would say a demon lit the way

Unchained, living Doomsday

It was all for nothing, no one knew the way

Left to their own devices, every culture has it

A projected end, known as doomsday