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....