There's a factory across the field, it's dark, cold and grey
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A thousand people cross the gates, to work there every day
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They're making the components that they hope will win the war
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It's a Radway Green death factory, come in and make some more
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My money is spent on living, their money is spent on death
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My death is their living, their living is my death
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You're all a bunch of liars, I just don't know who to believe
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You say you won't use it, tell me why you fucking make it
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Now, I've made mind up and decided you are wrong
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Got to find a way of fighting you, without being atom bombed
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-----------------
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Their Living Is My Death
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| Broken Bones |
