September 1, 2016
If my luck is bad And his aim is straight I will leave my life On the killing field You can see me die On the nightly news As you settle down To your evening meal. But you’ll turn your back As you often do Yet I am your sons And your daughters too. In the city streets Where the neon lights Turn my skin from black To electric blue My hope soaks red On the gray pavement And my dreams die hard For my life is through. But you’ll turn your back As you often do Yet I am your sons And your daughters too. In the little towns Of this mighty land Where you close your eyes To my crying need I strike out wild And my brother falls Turn on your news You can watch us bleed.