Burning crosses
Silver cymbals
And a mercy
yet to come

Justice doesn't sing
but cries with wail eternal

Have you seen
the South in Spring
Oh, the beauty doth prevail

But the shack
of his own family
lacks a door
that can curtail

Injustice is in season
and it's pulled
his chest wide open

Upon his hovel's
unlit entrance
lays a daughter
used and thrown

The fire
in a man's eyes
when he knows
his time has come

Throws a shotgun
on his shoulder
and loads it
while he can

Can't hear
the screams behind him
as he
smolders down the road

To have
and then
to hold her

He will
split them
all asunder

All pain is gone
All wonder
He lays with all
who plundered

He could not
abide his sole existence
And I think
you know well why

When you light
the cross injustice
It marks
upon your soul

Come hither
with your shotgun
and lay me 'neath
the cold, cold, soil