My guilty brother has seen,
That the judge ain't different from me.
In the courthouse, in the bedroom,
In my head I hear everything.
As the children sing in their sleep,
And the trees are springing from seeds,
We ask ourselves why the sky is painted blue
And always falling on me.
Why we can't always catch the thieves
They're destroying me.
Why the poles have to shift,
Why this dirt won't become the sea.
My guilty mother can sleep
Now that her kids have openly seen,
That even leaders of the tribe can push their men
To view their hanging trees.
And that the nooses can't be broken
'Cause they have to die for people to see,
That everyone that lives and breathes
Can be brought to their knees.