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• Artiste: Broken Bones
• Titre: Their Living Is My Death
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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