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