Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Zach de la Rocha - we want it all

Zach de la Rocha - we want it all (lyrics)
There they are now
The master of law


Throwing flowers on a casket of our broken dreams
Most thieves are silent
But these ones scream
These ones scream


We want it all


We want it all


I heard you talkin' my friend
I think you lost your mind
That somebody's listenin'
And then biding their time


Somebody's watchin'
Cause we wouldn't fight
For someone else's war
Could you hold on a second
For a second someone's at my door
Screaming hate is love
And fiction is fact
Honesty is deceit
That silence is security
And war is peace
'Cause we want it all


We want it all

DJ Shadow & Zach de la Rocha - march of death (lyrics)
I was born with the voice of a riot, a storm
lightening the function, the form, far from the norm
I won't follow like cattle, I'm more like the catalyst
calm in the mix of battle
who let the cowboy on the saddle? He don't know a
missile from a gavel;
para terror troopin flippin loops of death upon innocent flesh
but I'm back in the cipher my foes and friends, witha verse and a pen
against a line I won't toe or defend, instead I curse at murderous men
in suits of professionals who act like animals
this man child, ruthless and wild
who gonna chain this beast back on the leash?
this Texas F├╝hrer, for sure a, compassionless con who
serve a , lethal needle to the poor, the cure for crime is murder?
on the left, left, right, left
but it's just a march of death
I read the news today, oh boy, a snap shot of a midnight ploy
vexed and powerless, devoured my hours I'm motionless with no rest
'cause a scream now holds the sky, under another high-tech driveby
a lie is a lie this God is an eagle or a condor for war nothing more
Islam peace, Islam stare into my eye brother please off our knees
to beef now we feed their disease, interlocked our hands across seas
what is a flag but a shroud out loud, and outside my window is a faceless crowd
'cause a cowering child just took her last breath, on snare in the march of death
on the left, left, right, left
but it's just a march of death
here it comes the sound of terror from above
he flex his Texas twisted tongue
the poor lined up to kill in desert slums
for oil that burn beneath the desert sun
now we spit flame to flip this game
we are his targets taking aim
we're the targets taking aim
all his targets are taking aim

Saul Williams - Act III Scene 2 (Shakespeare) 
ft. Zach de la Rocha (lyrics)
This is a call out to all the youth in the ghettos, suburbs, villages, townships. To all the kids who download this song for free. By any means. To all the kids short on loot but high on dreams. To all the kids watching T.V., like, "Yo, I wish that was me." And all the kids pressing rewind on Let's Get Free. I hear you. To all the people within the sound of my voice.


Spit for the hated, the reviled, the unrefined, the no ones, the nobodies, the last in line.
Spit for the hated, the reviled, the unrefined, the no ones, the nobodies, the last in line.


I didn't vote for this state of affairs. My emotional state's got me prostrate, fearing my fears. In all reality I'm under prepared. 'Cause I'm ready for war but not sure if I'm ready to care. And that's why I'm under prepared. 'Cause I'm ready to fight, but most fights have me fighting back tears. 'Cause the truth is really I'm scared. Not scared of the truth, but just scared of the length you'll go to fight it. I tried to hold my tongue, son. I tried to bite it. I'm not trying to start a riot or incite it. 'Cause Brutus is an honorable man. It's just coincidence that oil men would wage war on an oil rich land. And this one goes out to my man, taking cover in the trenches with a gun in his hand, then gets home and no one flinches when he can't feed his fam. But Brutus is an honorable man.


Spit for the hated, the reviled, the unrefined, the no ones, the nobodies, the last in line.
Spit for the hated, the reviled, the unrefined, the no ones, the nobodies, the last in line.


If you have tears prepare to shed them now. For you share the guilt of blood spilt in accordance with the Dow Jones. Dow drops fresh crop skull and bones. A machete in the heady: Hutu, Tutsi, Leone. An Afghani in a shanty. Doodle dandy yank on! An Iraqi in Gap khaki. Coca Coma come on! Be ye bishop or pawn, in the streets or the lawn, you should know that these example could go on and on and what since does it make to keep your ears to the street? As long as oil's in the soil, truth is never concrete. So we dare to represent those with the barest of feet. 'Cause the laws to which we're loyal keep the soil deplete. It's our job to not let history repeat.


Spit for the hated, the reviled, the unrefined, the no ones, the nobodies, the last in line.
Spit for the hated, the reviled, the unrefined, the no ones, the nobodies, the last in line.


So here's the plan. The ides of march are always at hand. And when the power hungry strike, they strike the poorest of man. And if you dare put up a fight, they'll come and fight for your land. And they'll call it liberation or salvation. A call to the youth! Your freedom ain't so free, it's just loose. but the power of your voice could redirect every truth. Shift and shape the world you want and keep your fears in a noose. Let them dangle from a banner star spangled. I'm willing and able. To lift my dreams up out of their cradle. Nurse and nurture my ideals 'til they're much more than a fable. I can be all I can be and do much more than I'm paid to. And I won't be a slave to what authorities say do. My desire is to live within a nation on fire, where creative passions burn and raise the stakes ever higher. Where no person is addicted top some twisted supplier who promotes the sort of freedom sold to the highest buyer. We demand a truth naturally at one with the land, not a plant that photosynthesizes bombs on demand, or a search for any weapons we let fall from our hands. I got beats and a plan. I'm gonna do what I can. And what you do is question everything they say do, every goal ideal or value they keep pushing on you. If they ask you to believe it question whether it's true. If they ask you to achieve, is it for them or for you. You're the one they're asking to go carry a gun. Warfare ain't humanitarian. You're scaring me, son. Why not fight to feed the homeless, jobless, fight inflation?! Why not fight for our own healthcare and our education?! And instead, invest in that erasable lead, 'cause their twisted propaganda can't erase all the dead. And the pile of corpses pyramid on top of our heads. Or nevermind, said the shotgun to the head. 

Zach de la Rocha interviews Noam Chomsky:

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