It's this perverted game of chance.
Are lives as the bet and we have nothing to gain.
As we sit ,facing each other,
The draw begins, which shall live to remember ,
And whom shall be rememberd.
And the date is set. The Day of Remembrance.
To which we each strive, to reach the next year.
And find out on which side of the line you are.

The line we have put our lives on.

So in these times do I hope and pray to whatever god I have
left,
Or whatever god can still hear me,
For it must be hard to listen with so many souls up there.
That we are all wrong, that we shall all meet the next
year.
That this generation shall stand for one final time.
That none shall fall,
And no-more shall stand.