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作词 : Dylan |
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A bullet from the back of a bush took medgar evers' blood. |
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A finger fired the trigger to his name. |
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A handle hid out in the dark |
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A hand set the spark |
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Two eyes took the aim |
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Behind a man's brain |
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But he can't be blamed |
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He's only a pawn in their game. |
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A south politician preaches to the poor white man, |
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\you got more than the blacks, don't complain. |
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You're better than them, you been born with white skin,\ they explain. |
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And the negro's name |
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Is used it is plain |
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For the politician's gain |
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As he rises to fame |
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And the poor white remains |
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On the caboose of the train |
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But it ain't him to blame |
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He's only a pawn in their game. |
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The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid, |
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And the marshals and cops get the same, |
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But the poor white man's used in the hands of them all like a tool. |
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He's taught in his school |
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From the start by the rule |
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That the laws are with him |
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To protect his white skin |
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To keep up his hate |
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So he never thinks straight |
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'bout the shape that he's in |
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But it ain't him to blame |
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He's only a pawn in their game. |
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From the poverty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks, |
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And the hoof beats pound in his brain. |
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And he's taught how to walk in a pack |
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Shoot in the back |
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With his fist in a clinch |
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To hang and to lynch |
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To hide 'neath the hood |
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To kill with no pain |
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Like a dog on a chain |
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He ain't got no name |
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But it ain't him to blame |
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He's only a pawn in their game. |
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Today, medgar evers was buried from the bullet he caught. |
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They lowered him down as a king. |
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But when the shadowy sun sets on the one |
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That fired the gun |
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He'll see by his grave |
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On the stone that remains |
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Carved next to his name |
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His epitaph plain: |
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Only a pawn in their game. |
