Through tube, and wire, and solid-state,
through antenna and air,
to iron-curtain back-rooms hid
from each informant's stare,
for their not yet conquered oppressed
the sounds of Liberty
came broadcast over pirate wave:
a voice, Radio Free.
As so today, past rhetoric,
static, deflection, lie
that Spirit, despite demagogues,
refuses yet to die,
a voice that speaks of turning tides,
there's a voice on the radio;
it sounds a lot like me.
A voice at ev'ry turn besmirched,
misquoted, and maligned
as hate-speech Country bumpkin talk
best squelched by mastermind,
a voice that shouts “This ruling class
brings, at best, tyranny!” -
there's a voice on the radio;
it sounds a lot like me.
Yes, through tube, wire, and solid-state,
through Internet and air,
through our own not conquered oppressed
that voice is speaking there -
Radio Free America -
our pirate frequency:
there's voices rising everywhere;
they sound a lot like me.
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