Hands Held High ( Road To Revolution: Live at Milton Keynes )
Turn my mic up louder, I got to say something Lightweights steppin' aside when we come in Feel it in your chest, the syllables get pumping People on the street then panic and start running Words on loose leaf sheet, complete coming I jump in my mind, I summon the rhyme I'm dumping Healing the blind, I promise to let the sun in Sick of the dark ways we march to the drumming Jump when they tell us that they wanna see jumping Fuck that, I wanna see some fists pumping List something, take back what's yours Say something that you know they might attack you for 'Cause I'm sick of being treated like I had before Like it's stupid standing for what I'm standing for Like this war's really just a different brand of war Like it doesn't cater to rich and abandon poor Like they understand you, in the back of their jet When you can't put gas in your tank, these fuckers Are laughing their way to the bank, and cashing their check Asking you to have the passion and have some respect For a leader so nervous in an obvious way Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay And the rest of the world watching at the end of the day In the living room, laughing like, "What did he say?"