What mysteries flow
Through these white folk's blood
What secrets do they hide within?
What sickbed words pass accoss their lips
and what passions lie beneath their skin?

And their lives played out like childrens games
Under the summer sun
with a knife and a gun
A festered wound never heals

On the backporch
In the pawn shops

Dusting off their father's guns
Words like worms crawl through their brains
Sermons fly from the preachers mouth
but the auction block still remains
Gagged and tied to a tree trunk
After with a foxlike chase
With dogs and chains

In a field of white
In the broad daylight
The earth is black,
black with blood
they were friends
and they were brothers.

Life goes on
Across the railroad tracks
A flood of tears has come and gone
Autumn comes
White folks settle down
and the preacher's quoting
Luke and John

And its peace and plenty in he country
And the way we are we are we will remain
The world keeps spinning round and around and around
Just keeps spinning round and around and around
Everything's still the same

Life goes on like before
On the street on the porches
In our homes, in our towns
What we see all around us

Life goes on like before
While we sit in the doorway
All around, all our lives
All we do, no surprises