domingo, 10 de marzo de 2013

He was my brother


He was my brother 
Five years older than I 
He was my brother 
Twenty-three years old 
the day he died 
Freedom rider 
They cursed my brother 
to his face “Go home, 
outsider, 
This town is gonna be 
your buryin’ place 
He was singin’ on his knees 
An angry mob trailed along 

They shot my brother 
dead Because
 he hated what was wrong 
He was my brother 
Tears can’t bring him back to me 

He, was my brother 
And he died so his brothers could be free 
He died so his brothers could be free
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