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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