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!

Lights out! Guerrilla radio! / Turn that shit up!…

Contact, I hijacked the frequencies / Blockin’ the beltway, move on DC! / Way past the days of bombin’ MCs’ / Sound off, Mumia go on be free! / Who got ’em? Yo, check the federal file / All you pendejos know the trial was vile / An army of pigs try to silence my style / Off ’em all out that box, it’s my radio dial!

Lights out! Guerrilla radio! / Turn that shit up!…

It has to start somewhere / It has to start sometime / What better place than here? / What better time than now?

All hell can’t stop us now…

[By Tim Commerford – Zack de la Rocha – Tom Morello – Brad Wilk © Epic Records, 1999]