Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the Southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant South,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh!
Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.
Will any candidate acknowledge this? Will any candidate look back to our history or forward to our present and acknowledge that this prescient tune from the '40's so encompasses our domestic and foreign policy; that the American people are little more than klansmen?
Will you? Supporter of Obama?
Will you? Supporter of Hillary?
Will you? Supporter of the Democratic Party?
Will you? As a person of conscience?
Read it again. And if you're still confused, read it again.
It is still the reality of the world
- oh you might think it is the Congo now,
or the stuff a central Asian insurgency -
But this is us, in our own country, abandonned by those who claimed to represent us.
When was the last time you stopped through Girardeville PA? Apparently Bill Clinton went there on St. Patty's day. I was there a week before on a tour. It is yet another ghost town begotten of a country that abandons its people.
There is strange fruit all over the country. We're just not as bloody now as we were 50 years ago.
We'd rather export it.