Lady Sings The Blues

Strange Fruit

Southern trees, bear a strange fruit
Blood on the leaves, blood at the roots
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze
Strange fruit hanging from the popular trees

Pastoral scene, of the gallant south
Them big bulging eyes and the twisted mouths
Scent of magnolia, 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.

Bliss says: Honestly it pisses me off when black folk say that they have no reason to vote. Ignorance is not Bliss, it is just plain ignorance. I'd personally like to think that if my people died for anything, then they died for me. I'd like to think that if they fought for anything then they fought for me. They laid themselves on the alter and offered up themselves as sacrifices - FOR ME! For them you have to live on, strive on, fight on and you may have to give up your comfortableness and do something out of the ordinary and turn it into the extraordinary!