Rage Against The Machine - Evil Empire Lyrics
People Of The Sun
Yeah, people come up
Yeah, we better turn the bass up on this one
Check it, since fifteen hundred and sixteen, Mayans attacked and overseen
Now crawl amidst the ruins of this empty dream
With their borders and boots on top of us
Pullin' knobs on the floor, of their toxic metropolis
But how you gonna get what you need to get?
The gut eaters, blood drenched get offensive like Tet
The fifth sun sets get back reclaim
The spirit of Cuauhtemoc, alive and untamed
Now face the funk now blastin' out your speaker
On the one, Maya, Mexica
That vulture came to try and steal your name but now you got a gun
Yeah, this is for the people of the sun
It's comin' back around again
This is for the people of the sun
It's comin' back around again, uh
It's comin' back around again
This is for the people of the sun
It's comin' back around again, uh
Yeah, never forget that the whip snapped ya back
Your spine cracked for tobacco, I'm the Marlboro Man, uh
Our past blastin' on through the verses
Brigades of taxi cabs rollin' Broadway like hearses
Troops strippin' zoots, shots of red mist
Sailors blood on the deck, come sister resist
From the era of terror, check this photo lens
Now the City of Angels does the ethnic cleanse, uh
Heads bobbin' to the funk out your speaker
On the one, Maya, Mexica
That vulture came to try and steal your name but now you found a gun
You're history, this is for the people of the sun
It's comin' back around again
This is for the people of the sun
It's comin' back around again, yeah
It's comin' back around again
This is for the people of the sun
It's comin' back around again
It's comin' back around again
This is for the people of the sun
It's comin' back around again
It's comin' back around again
This is for the people of the sun
It's comin' back around, of the sun
Writer: Timothy Commerford, Thomas B. Morello, Zack M. De La Rocha, Brad J. Wilk
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
Bulls On Parade
Come wit' it now
Come wit' it now
The microphone explodes, shattering the molds
Either drop the hits like De La O or get the f*ck off the commode
Wit' the sure shot, sure to make the bodies drop
Drop and don't copy yo, don't call this a co-op
Terror rains drenchin', quenchin' the thirst of the power dons
That five sided fist-a-gon
The rotten sore on the face of mother earth gets bigger
The triggers cold empty ya purse
Rally 'round the family with a pocket full of shells
They rally 'round the family with a pocket full of shells
They rally 'round the family with a pocket full of shells
They rally 'round the family with a pocket full of shells
Weapons not food, not homes, not shoes
Not need, just feed the war cannibal animal
I walk the corner to the rubble that used to be a library
Line up to the mind cemetery now
What we don't know keeps the contracts alive and movin'
They don't gotta burn the books they just remove 'em
While arms warehouses fill as quick as the cells
Rally 'round the family, pockets full of shells
Rally 'round the family with a pocket full of shells
They rally 'round the family with a pocket full of shells
They rally 'round the family with a pocket full of shells
They rally 'round the family with a pocket full of shells
Bulls on parade
Come wit' it now
Come wit' it now
Bulls on parade
Bulls on parade
Bulls on parade
Bulls on parade
Bulls on parade
Writer: Timmy Commerford, Zach De La Rocha, Tom Morello, Brad Wilk
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
Vietnow
Turn on tha radio, nah f*ck it turn it off
Fear is your only god on the radio
Nah f*ck it, turn it off
Turn it off, turn on tha radio, nah f*ck it turn it off
Fear is your only god on the radio
Nah f*ck it, your saviour's my guillotine, crosses and kerosene
Merge on tha networks, slangin' nerve gas
Up jump tha boogie then bang, let 'em hang
While tha paraniod try ta stuff tha void
Let's capture this AM mayhem
Undressed, and blessed by tha Lord
Tha power pendulum swings by tha umbilical cord
Shock around tha clock, from noon 'til noon
Men grabbin' they mics, and stuff 'em into tha womb
Terror's tha product ya push
Well I'm a truth addict, oh shit I gotta headrush
Sheep tremble an here come tha votes
Thrown from tha throat, new cages an scapegoats
Undressed and blessed by tha Lord
Tha same devil that ran around Managua wit a sword
Check out tha new style that Ollie found
I tune in wit a bullet ta shut down tha devil sound
Shut down tha devil sound
Tha program of Vietnow
Shut down tha devil sound
Turn on the radio, nah f*ck it turn it off
Fear is your only god on the radio
Nah f*ck it, turn it off
Turn it off, turn on the radio, nah f*ck it turn it off
Fear is your only god on the radio
Nah f*ck it, your saviour's my guillotine, crosses and kerosene
Flex tha cerebellum, fire, uh!
Somebody gotta shell 'em
These evil angels lists, hittin' tha AM playlist
Paid ta say this
That one inhuman, illegal, single woman
Tha one wit out a room
The transmissions wippin' our backs
Yeah, comin' down like bats from Stacy Coon
Terror's tha product ya push
Well I'm a truth addict, oh shit I gotta headrush
Tha sheep tremble an here come tha votes
Thrown from tha throat, new cages and scapegoats
One caution tha mics a detonator unwound
Ta shut down tha devil sound
Shut down tha devil sound
Check tha heads bow in vietnow
Shut down tha devil sound
Is all tha world jails and churches?
Is all tha world jails and churches?
Is all tha world jails and churches?
Is all tha world jails and churches?
Is all tha world jails and churches?
Radio, nah f*ck it, turn it off
Fear is your only god on tha radio
Nah f*ck it, turn it off
Turn it off, turn on tha radio, nah f*ck it turn it off
Fear is your only god on tha radio
Nah f*ck it, your savior's my guillotine, crosses and kerosene
Fear is your, fear is your, fear is your only god
Fear is your, fear is your, fear is your only god
Fear is your, fear is your, fear is your only god
Fear is your, fear is your, fear is your only god
Writer: Brad J Wilk, Timothy Commerford, Tom Morello, Zack M De La Rocha
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
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 kin
And now he's swingin'
And now he's the champion
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers?
Revolver!
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers?
Revolver
A spotless domain
Hides festering hopes she's certain there's more
Pictures of fields without fences
A spotless domain
Hides festering hopes she's certain there's more
Pictures of fields without fences
Her body numbs as he approaches the door
As he approaches the door
As he approaches the door
As he approaches the door
As he approaches
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers?
Revolver!
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers?
Revolver!
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers?
Revolver!
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers?
Revolver!
Yeah!
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers?
Revolver!
Hey revolver, don't mothers make good fathers?
Revolver!
Revolver!
Revolver!
Revolver!
Revolver
Writer: Brad J Wilk, Timothy Commerford, Tom Morello, Zack M De La Rocha
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
Snakecharmer
Satellites and, pair of mirrors and, and a man without a home
With a horse, and a rider, and a clever, cunning killer
Silent in error and vocal in spotlights
Lying always sucking on a bottle of, that sweet, indulgent fluid
Oh greed oh yes oh greed oh yes!
Oh greed oh yes
Yeah!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Your friendship is a fog
That disappears when the wind redirects
You!
Yes you!
Father's expectations, soul soaked in, spit and urine
And you gotta make it where?
To a sanctuary that's a fragile American hell
An empty dream
A selfish, horrific vision
Passed on like the deadliest of viruses
Crushing you and your naive profession
Have no illusions boy
Vomit all ideals and serve
Sleep and wake and serve
And don't just think just wake and serve
Yeah!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Your friendship is a fog
That disappears when the wind redirects
You! Interested in you, interested in you
Interested in you, interested in you
Interested in you, interested in you
Interested in you, interested in you
Interested in you, interested in you
Interested in you, interested in you
Interested in you, interested in you
Interested in you, interested in you
Interested in you, interested in you
Interested in you, interested in you
Interested in you, interested in you
Interested in you
Writer: Brad J Wilk, Timothy Commerford, Tom Morello, Zack M De La Rocha
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
Tire Me
Yeah ya tryin' ta tire me, tire me
I can see you in front of me, front of me
Ya tryin' ta tire me, tire me
Why don't you get from in front of me?
Oh she's got everyone's eyes
Yeah!
In every home there's a sickening distress
Yeah!
Of roll that film she's a precious, a precious one
But we're all gonna, nah we're already dead!
We're already dead!
And those colorful words for tha Laos frontiers-man
Who passed away with the truth
Amidst the eulogies of bliss
Who will know now what I know about you?
Now that history's a flowery cancerous mess
Yeah ya tryin' ta tire me
A mess!
Overbearing yes ya tryin' ta tire me
A mess!
Yeah ya tryin' ta tire me, tire me
So get the f*ck from in front of me
Nah let's see it broken, bloody and undressed!
We're already dead!
In a violent time
I want to be Jackie Onassis
I want to wear a pair of dark sunglasses
I want to be Jackie O
Oh oh oh oh please don't die!
Yeah ya tryin' ta tire me, tire me
I can see you in front of me, front of me
Ya tryin' ta tire me, tire me
Why don't you get from in front of me?
Ruh!
We're already dead!
We're already dead!
We're already dead!
Writer: Brad J Wilk, Timothy Commerford, Tom Morello, Zack M De La Rocha
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
Down Rodeo
Yeah I'm rollin' down Rodeo wit a shotgun
These people ain't seen a brown skin man
Since their grandparents bought one
So now I'm rollin' down Rodeo wit a shotgun
These people ain't seen a brown skin man
Since their grandparents bought one
So now I'm rollin' down Rodeo wit a shotgun
Bangin' this bolo tight on this solo flight can't fight alone
Funk tha track my verbs fly like tha family stone
Tha pen devils set that stage for tha war at home
Locked wit out a wage ya standin' in tha drop zone
The clockers born starin' at an empty plate
Momma's torn hands cover her sunken face
We hungry but them belly full
The structure is set ya neva change it with a ballot pull
In tha ruins there's a network for tha toxic rock
School yard ta precinct, suburb ta project block
Bosses broke south for new flesh and a factory floor
The remains left chained to the powder war
Can't waste a day when the night brings a hearse
So make a move and plead the fifth 'cause ya can't plead the first
Can't waste a day when the night brings a hearse
So now I'm rollin' down Rodeo wit a shotgun
These people ain't seen a brown skin man
Since their grandparents bought one
Yes I'm rollin' down Rodeo wit a shotgun
These people ain't seen a brown skin man
Since their grandparents bought one
So now I'm rollin' down Rodeo wit a shotgun
Bare witness to tha sickest shot while suckas get romantic
They ain't gonna send us campin' like they did my man Fred Hampton
Still we lampin' still clockin' dirt for our sweat
A ballots dead so a bullet's what I get
A thousand years they had tha tools
We should be takin' 'em
F*ck tha G-ride I want the machines that are makin' em
Our target straight wit a room full of armed pawn to
Off tha kings out tha west side at dawn
Can't waste a day when the night brings a hearse
Make a move and plead the fifth 'cause ya can't plead the first
Can't waste a day when the night brings a hearse
So now I'm rollin' down Rodeo wit a shotgun
These people ain't seen a brown skin man
Since their grandparents bought one
Yeah I'm rollin' down Rodeo wit a shotgun
These people ain't seen a brown skin man
Since their grandparents bought one
Yeah I'm rollin' down Rodeo wit a shotgun
The rungs torn from the ladder can't reach the tumour
One god, one market, one truth, one consumer
Just a quiet peaceful dance!
Just a quiet peaceful dance!
Just a quiet peaceful dance!
Just a quiet peaceful dance!
Just a quiet peaceful dance for the things we'll never have
Just a quiet peaceful dance for the things we don't have
Writer: Timothy Commerford, Thomas B. Morello, Zack M. De La Rocha, Brad J. Wilk
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
Without A Face
Uh
Got no card so I got not soul
Life is prison, no parole, no control
Jura got my number on a wire tap
'Cause I jack for Similac, f*ck a Cadillac
Survive, one motive, no hope
'Cause every sidewalk I walk is like a tightrope
Yes, I know, my deadline sire, when my life expires
I'm sendin' paper south under the barbed wire
The mother of my child will lose her mind at my grave
It's my life for their life so call it a free trade
"Por vida" and our name upon the stall
I took a death trip when I tried to cross the white wall
Walk unseen past the graves an the gates
Born without a face
One motive, no hope, uh
Born without a face
Walk unseen past the graves an the gates
Born without a face
One motive, no hope, uh
Yeah, born without a face
Without a face
Yeah, I tried to look back to my past long lost
A blood donor to the land owner holocaust
Pops heart stopped, in came the air drop
Flooded the trench he couldn't shake the toxic shock
Maize was all we needed to sustain
Now her golden skin burns, insecticide rain
You down with DDT, yeah, you know me
I'm raped for the grapes, profit for the bourgeoisie
War tape boomin', path is Luminoso
I'm headed north like my name was Kid Cisco
To survive, one motive, no hope, uh
It's hard to breathe with Wilson's hands around my throat, uh
Strangled and mangled another SS curtain call
When I tried to cross the white wall
When I tried to cross the white walls
Walk unseen past the graves an the gates
Born without a face
One motive, no hope, uh
Born without a face
Walk unseen past the graves an the gates
Born without a face
One motive, no hope, uh
Born without a face
You say fortify
Reaction, you divide
You say fortify
Reaction, re-action
You say fortify
Reaction, re-action
You say fortify
Reaction, you divide
Writer: Brad J Wilk, Timothy Commerford, Tom Morello, Zack M De La Rocha
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
Wind Below
Flip this capital eclipse
Tha vocal tone has got 'em sweatin' their own apocalypse
Yes, rebel of tha grains stand masterless
Tha masked ones cap one
NAFTA comin' with tha new disaster
And yes we in wit tha wind an tha plan de Ayala kin
Are comin' back around again
Tha slave driver saliva, one night power turns
Them devils mouths dry, now Mexico burns
So here they come one by one them killers of the new frontier
Occupy, causin' fear, come on
Wit the wind below
We in wit the wind below
Wit the wind below
Flip this capital eclipse
Them bury life wit IMF shifts, and poison lips
Yo they talk it, while slicin' our veins yo so mark it
From the FINCAS overseers, to them vultures playin' markets
She ain't got nothin' but weapon and shawl
She is Chol, Tzotzil, Tojolobal, Tzeltal
The tools are her tools, Ejidos and ovaries
She once suffocated, now through a barrel she breathes
She is the wind below
The wind below
She is the wind below
And all the shareholders gonna flex, and try ta annex the truth
While the new trust is gonna flex, and cast their image in you
Yeah all the shareholders gonna flex, and try ta annex the truth
And while the new trust tries ta flex, and cast their image in you
And GE is gonna flex and try and annex the truth
And NBC is gonna flex and cast their image in you
And Disney bought the fantasies and piles of eyes
And ABC's new thrill rides of trials and lies
And while the gut eaters strain to pull the mud from their mouths
They force our ears to go deaf to the screams in the south
Yeah!
But we in wit the wind below!
But we in wit the wind below!
But we in wit the wind below!
Writer: TIMOTHY COMMERFORD, THOMAS B. MORELLO, ZACK M. DE LA ROCHA, BRAD J. WILK
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
Roll Right
Lick off the shot my stories shock ya like Ellison
Main line adrenaline Gaza to Tienanmen
From the basement I'm dwellin' in
I cock back tha sling to stone a settler
And breaks him off clean, call me the upsetter
Here comes the hands on the leashes
The cross, the capital, the pale families, the fear and the mouthpieces
The single sista lynch
The cell doors crash
And the master's drums echo, echo, echo, echo, echo, echo
Roll right! Roll call!
But now we're alright, we're all calm!
Roll right! Roll call!
And now we're alright, we're all calm!
This hits like fists bomb with the left and don't miss
With the sickest stilo I spark fear like pigs in the park
Head crack, I hijack the papers
The vapors caught fire up in your mind
Come back rewind one time
Here comes the hands on the leashes
The cross, the capital, the pale families, the fear and the mouthpieces
The single sista lynch
The cell doors crash
And the master's drums echo, echo, echo, echo, echo, echo
Roll right! Roll call!
But now we're alright, we're all calm!
Roll right! Roll call!
We gotta take 'em to tha seventh level
We gotta take 'em to tha seventh level
For their lives and my lives were never settled
Come on, don't freeze when zero hour comes
Come on, come on, don't freeze when zero hour comes
Come on
Send 'em to tha seventh level!
Send 'em to tha seventh level!
Send 'em to tha seventh level!
Send 'em to tha seventh level!
For their lives and my lives were never settled
Writer: COMMERFORD, DE LA ROCHA, MORELLO, WILK
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
Year Of Tha Boomerang
Tha sistas are in so check the front line
Seems I spent the '80s in the Haiti state of mind
Cast me into classes for electro shock
Straight incarcerated, the curriculum's a cell block
I'm swimmin' in half truths and it makes me wanna spit
Instructor come separate the healthy from tha sick
Ya weigh me on a scale, smellin' burnt skin
It's dark now in Dachau and I'm screamin' from within
'Cause I'm cell locked in tha doctrines of tha right
Enslaved by dogma, talk about my birthrights
Yet at every turn I'm runnin' into hell's gates
So I grip tha cannon like Fanon an pass tha shells to my classmates
Aw, power to tha people
'Cause tha bosses right ta live is mine ta die
So I'm goin' out heavy sorta like Mount Tai
Wit tha five centuries of penitentiary so let tha guilty hang
In tha year of tha boomerang
I got no property but yo I'm a piece of it
So let tha guilty hang
I got no property but yo I'm a piece of it
In the year of tha boomerang
I got no property but yo I'm a piece of it
So let tha guilty hang
I got no property but yo I'm a piece of it
In the year of tha boomerang
Yeah!
Now it's upon you!
Now it's upon you!
Tha sistas are in so check the front line
Seems I spent the '80s in the Haiti state of mind
Cast me into classes for electro shock
Straight incarcerated, the curriculum's a cell block
Swimmin' in half truths and it makes me wanna spit
Instructor come separate the healthy from tha sick
Ya weigh me on a scale, I'm smellin' burnt skin
It's dark now in Dachau and I'm screamin' from within
'Cause I'm cell locked in tha doctrines of tha right
Enslaved by dogma, talk about my birthrights
Yet at every turn I'm runnin' into hell's gates
So I grip tha cannon like Fanon an pass tha shells to my classmates
Aw, power to tha people, yeah, yeah
Tha bosses right ta live is mine ta die
I'm goin' out heavy sorta like Mount Tai
Wit tha five centuries of penitentiary so let tha guilty hang
In tha year of tha boomerang
I got no property but yo I'm a piece of it
So let tha guilty hang
I got no property but yo I'm a piece of it
Uh! In the year of tha boomerang
I got no property but yo I'm a piece of it
So let tha guilty hang
I got no property but yo I'm a piece of it
In the year of tha boomerang
Yeah!
Now it's upon you!
Now it's upon you!
You! You! You! You! You! You! You! You!
Writer: BRAD J. WILK, THOMAS B. MORELLO, TIMOTHY COMMERFORD, ZACK M. DE LA ROCHA
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing