In the Dark of the Apocalypse, Please Transform

Song of the Doomsday Guerrilla music We are all sharpshooters Each bullet kills a zombie We are all flying troops Even if that pterosaur is fast and ruthless In the dense ruins There are traces of our battle everywhere on high hills Burying our good brother No food or clothing Since that monster came forward No guns, no cannons Make your own superpowers we grow here Every inch of land is our own No matter who wants to grab it We will fight him to the end We will fight him to the end Carrying a big hammer and running rampant in the apocalypse, Tang Xiaomo, who has no space, said he was under a lot of pressure.