My fathers came from England
“It’s our right, by God and might; and
‘cause his skin is red,This land is ours by heaven’s powers; it’s simply ours to claim.
The Indian? To hell with him; we white; we’re not to blame.”
But being white don’t make it right; we somehow have to see
Each child of earth, by human birth, is born to liberty.
My fathers went to Africa
and found the black man there.
“We’ve work to do; so, we’ll make you a
slave our loads to bear.Because we’re white and live in light, and God is or our side,
We’ll use the whip; your back we’ll rip, ‘till blood runs from your hide.
But being white don’t make it right; inside we’re all the same:
Our blood runs red; inside our head, the same creative brain.
My fathers built a railroad across the Promise Land
To tote the rail and drive the nail, they
used they used the yellow man.“He’s less than we; and, so, you see, we’re right to make him toil
Beneath the sun, and when he’s done, we’ll drive him in the soil.”
But being white don’t make it right; it’s arrogance and pride
That sees another less than brother, when the soul has died.
My fathers preached the Gospel; they
talked of truth and love;
But turned to hate at heaven’s gate,
claimed power from above.And now the God on whom they trod calls us to repent:
We must atone for sins they’ve done or pay the consequence.
Yeah, being white don’t make it right, no matter where you stand;
For God has shown beneath skin tone lies the value of a man.
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