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