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

And their lives played out like children's games
Under the summer sun
With a knife and a gun
A festered wound never heals

On the back porch
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 fox like 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 it's peace and plenty in the 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