Kill for gain or shoot to maim But we don't need a reason The golden goose is on the loose And never out of season Some blackened pride still burns inside This shell of bloody treason Here's my gun for a barrel of fun For the love of living death.
Chorus The killer's breed or the demon's seed, The glamour, the fortune, the pain, Go to war again, blood is freedom's stain, But don't you pray for my soul anymore. 2 minutes to midnight The hands that threaten doom. 2 minutes to midnight To kill the unborn in the womb.
The blind men shout let the creatures out We'll show the unbelievers The napalm screams of human flames Of a prime time belsen feast... yeah! As the reasons for the carnage cut their meat and lick the gravy, We oil the jaws of the war machine and feed it with our babies.
The body bags and little rags of children torn in two And the jellied brains of those who remain to put the finger right on you. As the madmen play on words and make us all dance to their song, To the tune of starving millions to make a better kind of gun.