(SmithDickinson)

Kill for gain or shoot to maim

But we don't need a reason

To 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



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 treaten doom.

2 minutes to midnight,

To kill the unborn in the womb.



The blind men shout "Let the creatures out

We'll show the unbeliverers."

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 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 treaten doom.

2 minutes to midnight,

To kill the unborn in the womb.



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.



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 treaten doom.

2 minutes to midnight,

To kill the unborn in