The words of freedom on the tongue of a snake
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With a democratic face bought and paid for by the lies of the state
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Without a human trait well under the heels of a tyranny waits
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A long forgotten voice
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And revolution is the ultimate fate of the whip and the gun
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Nowhere to run is nothing like fun
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Out in the heat, Wild on the streets
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Wild on the streets, wild on the streets
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People listen to the words of a friend
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To lie you have to breath
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Television hey tell it again
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The people pay no heed
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We want equality but what do we get
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Bullets and ballots again
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Roll in your grave Beethoven and the death beat marches on
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Nowhere to run is nothing like fun
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Out in the heat, Wild on the streets
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Wild on the streets, wild on the streets
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On leather jackets and broken chain
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In walls of mortar and ties
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These are the words of our fate inscribed
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Standing twelve feet high
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Here are the free men who inherit the earth
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Here are the words that died
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Buried under six feet of dirt and the death beat marches on
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Nowhere to run is nothing like fun
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Out in the heat, Wild on the streets
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Wild on the streets, wild on the streets
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Wild on the Streets
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| Diamond Head |
