Kill for gain or shoot to maimnBut we don't need a reasonnThe Golden Goose is on the losenAnd never out of seasonnSome blackened pride burns insidenThis shell of bloody treasonnHere's my gun for the barrel of funnFor the love of the living deathnnThe killer's breed, or the demon's seednThe glamor, the fortune, the painnG o to war again, blood is freedom stainnBut don't you pray for soul anymore.nn2 minutes to midnightnThe hands that threaten doomn2 minutes to midnightnTo kill the unborn in the wombnnThe blind men shout, let the creatures outnWe'll show the unbelieversnThe NAPALM screams of humans flamesnOf a prime time Betson feast yeah!nAs the reasons for carnage cut their meat and lick they gravynWe oil the jaws of the war machine and feed it with our babiesnn2 minutes to midnightnThe hands that threaten doomn2 minutes to midnightnTo kill the unborn in the wombnnThe body bags and the little rags of children torn in twonAnd the jellied brains of those who remains to put finger right on younAs the Madman play on words and makes us all dance to their songnTo the tune of starving millions to make a better kind of gunnnThe killer's breed, or the demon's seednThe glamor, the fortune, the painnG o to war again, blood is freedom stainnBut don't you pray for soul anymore.nn2 minutes to midnightnThe hands that threaten doomn2 minutes to midnightnTo kill the unborn in the wombnMidnight, midnight, is all nightnMidnight, midnight, is all nightnMidnight, is all night