Down in a village where most residents were poor An old man had a factory that folks called "The Killing Floor" He was a surly master and though his workers all had wives He'd push them within inches of their lives!
They all were sick and tired of this stuff The men decided that they'd had enough
We won't take this anymore! Not gonna die on The Killing Floor He won't work us into the ground It's time to strike a match and burn it down...
They waited for the old man to head home for the night Then muscled in with kerosene and lanterns to ignite They took one final look one final look at all these monsterous machines Then lit the match that would fulfill their dreams
It was a blazing jubilee They felt these flames had set these workers free
We won't take this anymore! Not gonna die on The Killing Floor He won't work us into the ground It's time to strike a match and burn it down...
As the workers danced around the fire having fun The old pulled up terrified and screamed "What have you done?!" "This factory was the only thing that kept us all alive! Now you've gone and blown us all sky high!"
The factory was above an oil lake But all too late they realized their mistake
We wouldn't take it anymore! Didn't wanna die on The Killing Floor But we drove ourselves to the ground When we struck that match and burned it down... Why'd we have to go and burn it down?!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
