Too much hypocracy
In this old southern town for me
Way back in 1619 began
This tragic story
Thrown into slavery the crime
Was the color of skin
Never to see the light of the past again
Chorus:
I wanna go where the mountains are high enough to echo my song
I wanna go where the rivers run deep enough to drown my shame
I wanna go where the stars shine bright enough to show me the way
And I wanna go where the wind calls my name
The wind is calling India India India
It's a typical Savannah day
So I take my guitar to the park and I play
Sitting up under the live oak tree
The strangest feeling came over me
Is this the tree where my borther was hung?
Is this the ground where his body was burned?
God gave to me the gift of song
So I dedicate this one
Chorus
Superiority, who have you better than me
Wasting precious time on racist mentality
This is only the beginning
The flesh we'll be pushing up daisies in the end
Cause spirit knows no color
Either you're a hater or a lover
