There's a burning cross on a hillside.
Still bright after all these years.
And you want to just smile and ignore it, but I hear your fucking fear.
I don't believe that anything's changed, at least not for the better.
I don't believe that anything's changed, and nothing's getting better.
Dead words from a different time still can boil blood,
still have the power to crucify on a fence in America.
And the words you say are still smoldering.
And those crosses are still burning.
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