Burn It Down

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 work 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 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 man 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?!