the factory you're ready to strike
the factory is gonna catch fire
got the gasoline and the match to light
got the stains on your clothes from last night's fight
back door is shut
you pick the lock
pages in a pile as they take the shot
smoking guns, pistols cocked
always ready to kill, ready to stop
anyone who disagrees with a crooked plot
the crooked cops, sirens off
they bust the door, your pour the gasoline on
pages in your hand
they shoot your arm
second bullet hits, but you still respond
you strike the match
your pulse is gone
If nobody sees you, no one will know
save for the priest in the confessional
the mind moves fast but the body moves slow
no time to waste, 'cuz the cops might show
ripping out the pages of the Bible you stole
hide them in a bag with the chemical
courage, man...you're a proffesional
No one was seen, no potential threats
you run to the store, some matches to get
50p is down, your hands are wet
you're nervous now, man...you've started to sweat
face is so white, you can't forget
they've killed everyone who tried to start it
almost there
you see the darkened silloutte of...
the factory you're ready to strike
the factory is gonna catch fire
got the gasoline and the match to light
got the stains on your clothes from last night's fight
back door is shut
you pick the lock
pages in a pile as they take the shot
get the pages out...get the pages out...
light the pages now...
