I sing that old Negro spiritual
every time they come for me.
They drag my tired old body
down yonder to the lynching tree.
We pass by that old church
where we worshipped in your name.
They burned it to the ground.
All that’s left is just the frame.
I see that old confederate flag.
Sometimes I forget it’s there
But when they call me ‘nigger’,
I know it ain’t going nowhere.
Lest I do forget
let me recall to mind
that old Negro spiritual
“My God is color blind.”
I’ve lived through slavery and Jim Crow.
And I’m tired and in need of rest.
Take me in your arms Lord.
You know I did my best.
I sing this song, a song of love,
I won’t be burdened by hate no more.
The Lord will welcome me home.
I’ll be glad to see heaven’s door.
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