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1, 2 
Aiight 
 
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 
with a verse and a pen 
against a line I won't tow or defend 
instead I curse at murderous men 
in suits of professionals who act like animals 
This man child, ruthless and wild 
Who's gonna chain this beast back on the leash? 
This Texas fuhrer, for sure a 
compassionless con who serve a 
lethal needle to the poor, the cure for crime is murder? 
Well 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 
 
on the left 
on the left, left, right, left 
on the left 
on the left, left, right, left (but it's just a march of death) 
on the left 
on the left, left, right 
 
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 is a rag but a shroud out loud 
outside my window is a faceless crowd 
'Cause a cowering child just took her last breath 
one snare in the march of death 
 
Uh 
C'mon 
Get up 
 
on the left 
on the left, left, right, left 
on the left 
on the left, left, right, left (but it's just a march of death) 
on the left 
on the left, left, right, left 
on the left 
on the left, left, right 
 
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 
all the targets are taking aim 
all targets are taking aim 
we're the targets are taking aim 
 
left, right, left 
left, right, left 
left, right

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March Of Death Lyrics by Zack De La Rocha

Correct March Of Death Lyrics here