the truth is obscured by this taste of copper
interred and conferred not even dirt for the graves
enslaved human beings must first be appraised
before they go on to live and become another strange fruit
and the juice drains into the champagne flutes
the same noose used to end the lives of plenty
is used by another man to tie a bag of money
many die, and still the world spins monotonous
caught in this whirlwind of intolerance
common sense is absent in a world ruled by madmen
its always been an eye for an eye, but who really gets the last grin?
Why do I cry? Why does blood spill?
Why do I laugh when others must kill?
everybody has an answer, but look at what it came to
another seed planted for the tree with the strange fruit
(inspired by Nina Simone's "Strange Fruit") Sept. 25, 2004
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