Their Living Is My Death

There's a factory across the field, it's dark, cold and grey

A thousand people cross the gates, to work there every day

They're making the components that they hope will win the war

It's a Radway Green death factory, come in and make some more

My money is spent on living, their money is spent on death

My death is their living, their living is my death

You're all a bunch of liars, I just don't know who to believe

You say you won't use it, tell me why you fucking make it

Now, I've made mind up and decided you are wrong

Got to find a way of fighting you, without being atom bombed