The Trooper
(Steve Harris)
You'll take my life but I'll take yours too
You'll fire your musket but I'll run you through
So when you're waiting for the next attack
You'd better stand there's no turning back.
The bugle sounds and the charge begins
But on this battlefield no one wins
The smell of acrid smoke and horses breath
As I plunge on into certain death.
The horse he sweats with fear we break to run
The mighty roar of the Russian guns
And as we race towards the human wall
The screams of pain as my comrades fall
We hurdle bodies that lay on the ground
And the Russians fire another round
We get so near yet so far away
We won't live to fight another day.
We get so close near enough to fight
When a Russian gets me in his sights
He pulls the trigger and I feel the blow
A burst of rounds take my horse below.
And as I lay there gazing at the sky
My body's numb and my throat is dry
And as I lay forgotten and alone
Without a tear I draw my parting groan.
Be Quick Or Be Dead
(Bruce Dickinson - Janick Gers)
Covered in sinners and dripping with gilt
Making you money from slime and from filth
Parading your bellies in ivory towers
Investing our lives in your schemes and your powers
You got to watch them - Be quick or be dead
Snake eyes in heaven - The thief in your head
You've got to watch them - Be quick or be dead
Snake eyes in heaven - The thief in your head...
Be quick! Or be dead!
Be quick! Or be dead
See... what's ruling all our lives
See... who's pulling the strings...
I bet you won't fall on your face...
Your belly will hold you in place
The serpent is crawling inside of your ear
He says you must vote for what you want to hear
Don't matter what's wrong as long as you're alright
So pull yourself stupid and rob yourself blind.
Can I Play With Madness
(Adrian Smith - Bruce Dickinson - Steve Harris)
Give me the sense to wonder
To wonder if I'm free
Give me a sense of wonder
To know I can be me
Give me the strength to hold my head up
Spit back in their face
Don't need no key to unlock this door
Gonna break down the walls
Break out of this bad place
Can I play with madness - the prophet stared at his crystal ball
Can I play with madness - there's no vision there at all
Can I play with madness - the prophet looked and he laughed at me
Can I play with madness - he said you're blind too blind to see
I screamed aloud to the old man
I said don't lie don't say you don't know
I say you'll pay for your mischief
In this world or the next
Oh and then he fixed me with a freezing glance
And the hell fires raged in his eyes
He said do you want to know the truth son
- I'll tell you the truth
Your soul's gonna burn in the lake of fire
Can I play with madness - the prophet stared at his crystal ball
Can I play with madness - there's no vision there at all
Can I play with madness - the prophet looked and he laughed at me
Can I play with madness - he said you're blind too blind to see
Can I play with madness - the prophet stared at his crystal ball
Can I play with madness - there's no vision there at all
Can I play with madness - the prophet looked and he laughed at me
Can I play with madness - he said you're blind too blind to see.
2 Minutes To Midnight
(Adrian Smith - Bruce Dickinson)
Kill for gain or shoot to maim
But we don't need a reason
The Golden Goose is on the loose
And never out of season
Some blackened pride still burns inside
This shell of bloody treason
Here's my gun for a barrel of fun
For the love of living death.
Chorus:
The killer's breed or the demon's seed,
The glamour, the fortune, the pain,
Go to war again, blood is freedom's stain,
But don't you pray for my soul anymore.
2 minutes to midnight
The hands that threaten doom.
2 minutes to midnight
To kill the unborn in the womb.
The blind men shout let the creatures out
We'll show the unbelievers
The napalm screams of human flames
Of a prime time Belsen feast...YEAH!
As the reasons for the carnage cut their meat and lick the gravy,
We oil the jaws of the war machine and feed it with our babies.
Chorus:
The body bags and little rags of children torn in two
And the jellied brains of those who remain to put the finger right on you.
As the madmen play on words and make us all dance to their song,
To the tune of starving millions to make a better kind of gun.
Chorus:
Midnight...all night...
