What mysteries flow through these white folk's blood? What secrets do they hide within? What sipid words pass across their lips? And what passions lie beneath their skin? All their fortunes made in their pool halls. And there lives played out like childrens' 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 fathers' guns Words like worms crawl through their brains Sermons fly from the preacher's mouth But the auction block still remains Gagged and tied to a tree trunk After a fox hunt chase with dogs and chains In a field of white in the broad daylight The earth is black, black with blood There were friends and there 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 still quotes Luke and John , And there's peace and plenty in the spring time. And the way we are, we will remain The world keeps spinning round and around Just keep spinning around and around and around Everything is still the same Life goes on Like before, on the streets On the porches in our homes in our towns What we see all around us. Life goes on Like before while we sit by the doorway All around All our lives All we do No surprises