Rage Against Machine Follow

My narrative fearless
Word war returns to burn
Like Baldwin home from Paris, uh
Like steel from a furnace
I was born landless
Yes it's tha native son
Born of Zapatas guns

Stroll through the shanties
And tha cities remain
Same bodies buried hungry
But with different last names
The vultures rob everything
Leave nothing but chains
Pick a point on the globe
Yes tha picture's 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 too tame
A white hooded judge
A syringe and a vein

And the riot be the rhyme of the unheard
What ya say, what ya say, what ya say, what?
What ya say, what ya say, what ya say, what?
What ya say, what ya say, what ya say, what?
What ya say, what ya say, what ya say, what?

I'm calm like a bomb
I'm calm like a bomb

This ain't subliminal
Feel the critical mass approach horizon
Tha pulse of the condemned
Sound of America's demises
Tha anti-myth rhythm rock shocker
Yes I spit fire
Hope lies in the smoldering
Rubble of empires

Stroll through tha shanties
And tha cities remain
Same bodies buried hungry
With different last names
The vultures rob everything
Leave nothing but chains
Pick a point here at home
Yes the picture's tha same

There's a field full of slaves
Some corn and some debit
There's a ditch full of bodies
Tha check for the rent
There's a tap, tha phone
Tha silence of stone
The numb black screen
That be feelin' like home

And the riot be the rhyme of the unheard
What ya say? what ya say? what ya say? what?
What ya say? what ya say? what ya say? what?
What ya say? what ya say? what ya say? what?
What ya say? what ya say? what ya say? what?

I'm calm like a bomb
I'm calm like a bomb
I'm calm like a bomb
Calm like a bomb

Calm like a bomb
I'm calm like a bomb
Calm like a bomb
I'm calm like a bomb

There's a mass without roofs, a prison to fill
A country's soul that reads 'Post no bills'
A strike and a line of cops outside of tha mill
There's a right to obey and a right to kill
There's a mass without roofs, a prison to fill
A country's soul that reads 'Post no bills'
A strike and a line of cops outside of tha mill
There's a right to obey and a right to kill

My narrative fearless
Word war returns to burn