In regards to the meaning of this song:
Before a live performance on the EP Five Stories Falling, Geoff states “It’s about the last time I went to visit my grandmother in Columbus, and I saw that she was dying and it was the last time I was going to see her. It is about realizing how young you are, but how quickly you can go.”
That’s the thing about Geoff and his sublime poetry, you think it’s about one thing, but really it’s about something entirely different. But the lyrics are still universal and omnipresent, ubiquitous, even. So relatable. That’s one thing I love about this band. I also love their live performances, raw energy and Geoff’s beautiful, imperfectly perfect vocals. His voice soothes my aching soul.
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
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
The killer's breed or the demon's seed
The glamour, the fortune, the pain
Go to war again, blood is freedom's stain
Don't you pray for my soul anymore
Two minutes to midnight
The hands that threaten doom
Two minutes to midnight
To kill the unborn in the womb
The blind men shout, "Let the creatures out
We'll show the unbelievers"
Napalm screams of human flames
For 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
The killer's breed or the demon's seed
The glamour, the fortune, the pain
Go to war again, blood is freedom's stain
Don't you pray for my soul anymore
Two minutes to midnight
The hands that threaten doom
Two minutes to midnight
To kill the unborn in the womb
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
The killer's breed or the demon's seed
The glamour, the fortune, the pain
Go to war again, blood is freedom's stain
Don't you pray for my soul anymore
Two minutes to midnight
The hands that threaten doom
Two minutes to midnight
To kill the unborn in the womb
Midnight
Midnight
Midnight
It's all night
Midnight
Midnight
Midnight
It's all night
Midnight, all night
But we don't need a reason
The Golden Goose is on the loose
And never out of season
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
The killer's breed or the demon's seed
The glamour, the fortune, the pain
Go to war again, blood is freedom's stain
Don't you pray for my soul anymore
Two minutes to midnight
The hands that threaten doom
Two minutes to midnight
To kill the unborn in the womb
The blind men shout, "Let the creatures out
We'll show the unbelievers"
Napalm screams of human flames
For 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
The killer's breed or the demon's seed
The glamour, the fortune, the pain
Go to war again, blood is freedom's stain
Don't you pray for my soul anymore
Two minutes to midnight
The hands that threaten doom
Two minutes to midnight
To kill the unborn in the womb
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
The killer's breed or the demon's seed
The glamour, the fortune, the pain
Go to war again, blood is freedom's stain
Don't you pray for my soul anymore
Two minutes to midnight
The hands that threaten doom
Two minutes to midnight
To kill the unborn in the womb
Midnight
Midnight
Midnight
It's all night
Midnight
Midnight
Midnight
It's all night
Midnight, all night
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I love the part about "The Golden Goose is on the loose, and never out of season" I'm pretty sure this is about how the american public were constantly told that the threat of a nuclear strike was an ever present possibility, the golden goose being this kind of unseen, almost mythical threat.
@quiffporn the golden goose is the profit made form war. And war sure makes a lot of profit for the arms companies.
@quiffporn You obviously didn't grow up during the nuclear arms race, and I'm happy for you. But there was nothing "mythical" about the threat my generation grew up under, especially with war-mongering lunatics like Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher in power. (And on behalf of all of us, from all countries, who fought like hell to stop the insanity, you're welcome.)