Rage Against The Machine

[Zach de la Rocha]
Transmission, third World War, third round
A decade of the weapon of sound above ground
No Shelter if you're looking for shade
I lick shots at the brutal charade
As the polls close like a casket, on truth devoured
A silent play on the shadow of power
A spectacle monopolized
The cameras eyes on choice disguised
Was it cast for the mass who burn and toil
Or for the vultures who thirst for blood and oil?
Yes, a spectacle monopolized!
They hold the reins, stole your eyes!
All the Fist-a-gons, the bullets, and bombs
Who stuff the banks
Who staff the party ranks
More for Gore or the son of a drug lord
None of the above. FUCK IT, cut the cord!
[Chorus]
LIGHTS OUT! GUERILLA RADIO!
TURN THAT SHIT UP!
LIGHTS OUT! GUERILLA RADIO!
TURN THAT SHIT UP!
LIGHTS OUT! GUERILLA RADIO!