Idioma Origen:
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
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
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
For 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
Repeat chorus
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
Midnight, midnight, midnight is all night
Midnight, midnight, midnight is all night
Midnight' all night'
Idioma Destino:
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
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
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
For 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
Repeat chorus
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
Midnight, midnight, midnight is all night
Midnight, midnight, midnight is all night
Midnight' all night'