2 MINUTES TO MIDNIGHT
(Smith, Dickinson)

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

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 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
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 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... all night...