THE KLAN



Am

The countryside was cold and still

C

There was a cross upon the hill

Am

This cold cross wore a burning hood

F Am

To hide its rotten heart of wood



Am

Father I hear the iron sound

Dm Eb Am

Of hoofbeats on the frozen ground



Down from the hills the riders came

Jesus, it was a crying shame

To see the blood upon their whips

And hear the snarling of their lips



Mother I feel a stabbing pain

Blood flows down like a summer rain



Now each one wore a mask of white

To hide his cruel face from sight

and each one sucks a little breath

Out of the empty lungs of death



Sister lift my bloody head

It's so lonesome to be dead



He who travels with the Klan

He is a monster, not a man

Underneath that white disguise

I have looked into his eyes



Brother, will you stand with me

it's not easy to be free

@freedom

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