Transmission third world war, third round A decade of the weapon of sound above ground Ain't 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 camera's eye on choice disguised
Lights out, Guerilla radio Turn that shit up Lights out, Guerilla radio Turn that shit up
Was it cast for the mass who burn and toil Or for the vultures who thirst for blood and oil? A spectacle monopolized They hold the reins and stole your eyes
The fistagons, bullets and bombs Who staff the banks? Who staff the party ranks? More for Gore or the son of the drug Lord None of the above, fuck it, cut the cord
Lights out, Guerilla radio Turn that shit up Lights out, Guerilla radio Turn that shit up