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作词 : Dickinson, Smith |
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Kill for gain or shoot to maim |
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But we don't need a reason |
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The Golden Goose is on the loose |
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And never out of Season. |
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Some blackened pride still burns inside |
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This shell of bloody treason |
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Here's my gun for a barrel of fun |
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For the love of living death |
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The killer's breed or the Deamon's seed' |
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The glamour' the fortune' the pain' |
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Go to war again' blood is freedom's stain' |
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But don't you pray for my soul anymore. |
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2 minutes to midnight' |
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The hands that threaten doom. |
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2 minutes to midnight' |
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To kill the unborn in the womb. |
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The blind men shout let the creatures out |
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We'll show the unbelievers' |
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The Napalm screams of human flames |
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Of a prime time Belsen feast...YEAH! |
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As the reasons for the carnage cut their meat |
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and lick the gravy' |
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We oil the jaws of the war machine |
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and feed it with our babies. |
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The killer's breed or the Deamon's seed' |
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The glamour' the fortune' the pain' |
[02:12.600] |
Go to war again' blood is freedom's stain' |
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But don't you pray for my soul anymore. |
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2 minutes to midnight' |
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The hands that threaten doom. |
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2 minutes to midnight' |
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To kill the unborn in the womb. |
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The body bags and little rags of children torn in two' |
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And the jellied brains of those who remain |
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to put the finger right on you. |
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As the Madmen play on words and make us all |
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dance to their song' |
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To the tune of starving millions |
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to make a better kind of gun. |
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The killer's breed or the Deamon's seed' |
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The glamour' the fortune' the pain' |
[04:49.540] |
Go to war again' blood is freedom's stain' |
[04:54.350] |
But don't you pray for my soul anymore. |
[04:59.970] |
2 minutes to midnight' |
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The hands that threaten doom. |
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2 minutes to midnight' |
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To kill the unborn in the womb. |
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Midnight |
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Midnight...all night... |
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Midnight |
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Midnight...all night... |
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Midnight...all night... |