Battle Hymn of the Downtrodden

See me on the street, molotov clutched in my hand
When the time comes to purge the corruption from the land
Masked man, black bandanna, black shirt, red starred
Wheeling guillotines out, collapsing structured Old Guard
Oil slicked, orange evenings, and smoked into blue
Hole punching stars, crooked schemers, what's it to you?
When the time comes, you bet your ass, we won't be televised
Not unless the mainstream can paint us in their crooked lies

Crooked ties, blue and red, tied silken noose
Submit and supplicate-- bow down, or you'll be the news
Pushed to margin, in the memory hole, and there we stick
Hanging on us till you realize we aren't hearing your shit
"You see there's leaders, and there's followers"
But following doesn't mean shit when in the face of poppy flowers
"You see there's leaders, and there's followers"
And I'll be damned if I count within the number of the cowards.

When your state's a war criminal, what's there to do
Wheel out the guillotines, the riflemen and go make the news
When your state's a prison profiteer, what's there to do
You break the walls down, free the masses, lead them to truth
When your state is unbearable, what's there to do
You climb the wall with tooth and fang, and you give 'em the screws
When your state is paralyzed with fear, what's there to do
You carry into the street and show them that you can't lose

Cause the ties are the same when you're standing out in the dark
Where the deals are made and sharks of all color make their mark
If you're stood against them, memory holed, it makes me so sick
Cause they still aren't processing I'm not hearing there shit
"You see there's leaders, and there's followers"
And the opposition's still claiming that their paragon is right
"You see there's leaders, and there's followers"
But I'll be damned if I'm walking quiet towards corrupted light.