Saturday, June 16, 2007

Rage Against the Machine lyrics

Settle for Nothing
A jail cell is freedom from the pain in my home
Hatred passed on, passed on and passed on
A world of violent rage
But it's one that I can recognise
Having never seen the colour of my father's eyes.
Yes, I dwell in hell,
but it's a hell that I can grip.
I tried to grip my family
But I slipped.

To escape from the pain
in an existence mundane
I gotta 9, a sign, a set and now I gotta name.

If we don't take action now
We settle for nothing later.
Settle for nothing now
And we'll settle for nothing later.

Bulls on Parade
Weapons
not food, not homes, not shoes
Not need, just feed
the war cannibal animal.
I walk tha corner to tha rubble that used to be a library
Line up to tha mind cemetary now.

What we don't know
keeps tha contracts alive an movin'.
They don't gotta burn tha books
they just remove 'em.

While arms warehouses fill as quick as tha cells
Rally round tha family, pockets full of shells.

Revolver
His spit is worth more than her work.
Pass the purse to the pugilists.
He's a prizefighter
And he bought rings
and he owns kings
And now he's swingin'
And now he's the champion.
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers?

Down Rodeo
So now I'm rollin' down Rodeo wit a shotgun
These people ain't seen a brown skin man
Since their grandparents bought one.

The rungs torn from the ladder can't reach the tumour
One god, one market, one truth, one consumer.

Guerilla Radio
A spectacle
monopolized
The camera's 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
and stole your eyes.
Or the fistagons
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.

Calm Like a Bomb
I be walkin' god like a dog
My narrative fearless.
My word war returns to burn
Like Baldwin home from Paris.
Like Steel from a furnace
I was born landless.
This is tha native son
Born of Zapata's guns.
Stroll through tha shanties
And tha cities remains.
Same bodies buried hungry
But with different last names.
These vultures rob everything
Leave nothing but chains.
Pick a point on tha globe
Yes tha pictures tha same.
There's a bank
There's a church a myth and a hearse.
A mall and a loan
a child dead at birth.
There's a widow pig parrot
A rebel to tame.
A whitehooded judge
A syringe and a vein.

Sleep Now in the Fire
For it's the end of history
It's caged and frozen still.
There is no other pill to take
So swallow the one that makes you ill.
The nina
the pinta
the santa maria.
The noose
and the rapist
the fields' overseer.
The agents of orange
The priests of hiroshima
The cost of my desire
Sleep now in the fire.

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