Kill for gain or shoot to maim
But we dont need a reason
The golden goose is on the loose
And never out of season
Blackened pride still burns inside
This shell of b_____ treason
Here's my gun for a barrel of fun
For the love of living death.

The killers breed or the demons seed,
The glamour, the fortune, the pain,
Go to war again, blood is freedoms stain,
But dont 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
Well 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 killers breed or the demons seed,
The glamour, the fortune, the pain,
Go to war again, blood is freedoms stain,
But dont 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 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 killers breed or the demons seed,
The glamour, the fortune, the pain,
Go to war again, blood is freedoms stain,
But dont 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.

Midnight, Midnight, Midnight... It's all night
Midnight, Midnight, Midnight... It's all night
Midnight... All night

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