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
Silent play in 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 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, guerilla radio
Turn that shit up
Lights out, guerilla radio
Turn that shit up

Lights out, guerilla radio
Turn that shit up
Guerilla radio
Quit it now