A frozen winter morning; there's frost out on the field.
Security is paramount. Orders are unsealed.
"It's always them; the bosses. They all deserve a kick,
Changing round the roster for the buggers going sick!
Christmas Day, and stuck here in a bunker underground?
Everyone at home is back there, gathering around
The Fire..."
The operator shifted; "There's something on the screen!"
His hand moved to his mouth and he popped a Benzedrine.
"Maybe soon I'll get some sleep!" - he'd been awake for days -
"Meantime, there's a job to do." The flickering displays
Skittered tales of armaments and altitude and time.
Standing Orders made it clear: "Do nothing that will prime
The Fire!
"As of now, the information isn't quite complete;
Eighty-five percent, and we're at twenty thousand feet.
I'd say it's now or never; but then, it's not my call.
Facial recognition's been no bloody use at all!
'Scuse my French, I didn't mean to sound so impolite.
You give me the go-ahead, I'm ready to ignite
The Fire."
"Eighty-five percent? Is that the best that you can do?"
"Minister, we need to know if you can get it through?
Maybe twenty minutes, and the window's going to close.
How'll it seem if he escapes from underneath your nose?"
"The Russians, they invented this version of Roulette!
It's 'go', but tell your desk man, 'be careful not to set
The Fire!'"
Missiles pack a punch, and this one didn't mess around -
The fireball arriving above the speed of sound.
In the end, they called it an "unfortunate event";
Chances of it happening? Around fifteen percent.
Somewhere, sometime later, someone else conceived a plan.
The cycle started over - and that's how it began:
The Fire...
"Nothing is to be confirmed or even be implied..."
Nothing is believed until officially denied!
Everything is black and white, and loyalties are raw.
Those who've walked along this path and seen it all before
Will tell you in an instant that things can fall apart,
Sitting on the tinder box and trying not to start
The Fire...