ONLY A PAWN IN THEIR GAME

A bullet from the back of a bush took medgar evers blood.

A finger fired the trigger to his name.

A handle hid out in the dark

A hand set the spark

Two eyes took the aim

Behind a mans brain

But he cant be blamed

Hes only a pawn in their game.

A south politician preaches to the poor white man,

You got more than the blacks, dont complain.

Youre better than them,

you been born with white skin, they explain.

And the negros name

Is used it is plain

For the politicians gain

As he rises to fame

And the poor white remains

On the caboose of the train

But it aint him to blame

Hes only a pawn in their game.

The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid,

And the marshals and cops get the same,

But the poor white mans used

in the hands of them all like a tool.

Hes taught in his school

From the start by the rule

That the laws are with him

To protect his white skin

To keep up his hate

So he never thinks straight

bout the shape that hes in

But it aint him to blame

Hes only a pawn in their game.

From the poverty shacks,

he looks from the cracks to the tracks,

And the hoof beats pound in his brain.

And hes taught how to walk in a pack

Shoot in the back

With his fist in a clinch

To hang and to lynch

To hide neath the hood

To kill with no pain

Like a dog on a chain

He aint got no name

But it aint him to blame

Hes only a pawn in their game.

Today, medgar evers was buried

from the bullet he caught.

They lowered him down as a king.

But when the shadowy sun sets on the one

That fired the gun

Hell see by his grave

On the stone that remains

Carved next to his name

His epitaph plain:

Only a pawn in their game.