As the end of the year comes close
The Reaper extends his icy cold hand
The scythe is never far
But now it's closer than ever before

It's the call of the grave
Call of the grave!

The karma of mankind is blackened
The Reaper is drawn even nearer
As everything bad happens at once
You must feel lucky to be left alive

No selection of mercy
In where he will strike
Pain optimization
Or the cruelty of chance