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Here's to the State of Mississippi |
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For underneath her borders, the devil draws no lines |
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If you drag her muddy river, nameless bodies you will find |
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Whoa the fat trees of the forest have hid a thousand crimes |
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The calender is lyin' when it reads the present time |
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Whoa, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of |
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Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of |
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Here's to the people of Mississippi |
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Who say the folks up north, they just don't understand |
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And they tremble in their shadows at the thunder of the Klan |
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The sweating of their souls can't wash the blood from off their hands |
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They smile and shrug their shoulders at the murder of a man |
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Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of |
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Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of |
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Here's to the schools of Mississippi |
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Where they're teaching all the children that they don't have to care |
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All of rudiments of hatred are present everywhere |
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And every single classroom is a factory of despair |
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There's nobody learning such a foreign word as fair |
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Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of |
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Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of |
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Here's to the cops of Mississippi |
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They're chewing their tobacco as they lock the prison door |
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Their bellies bounce inside them as they knock you to the floor |
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No they don't like taking prisoners in their private little war |
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Behind their broken badges there are murderers and more |
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Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of |
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Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of |
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And, here's to the judges of Mississippi |
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Who wear the robe of honor as they crawl into the court |
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They're guarding all the bastions with their phony legal fort |
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Oh, justice is a stranger when the prisoners report |
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When the black man stands accused the trial is always short |
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Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of |
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Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of |
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And here's to the government of Mississippi |
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In the swamp of their bureaucracy they're always bogging down |
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And criminals are posing as the mayors of the towns |
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They're hoping that no one sees the sights and hears the sounds |
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And the speeches of the governor are the ravings of a clown |
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Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of |
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Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of |
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And here's to the laws of Mississippi |
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Congressmen will gather in a circus of delay |
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While the Constitution is drowning in an ocean of decay |
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Unwed mothers should be sterilized, I've even heard them say |
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Yes, corruption can be classic in the Mississippi way |
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Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of |
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Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of |
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And here's to the churches of Mississippi |
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Where the cross, once made of silver, now is caked with rust |
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And the Sunday morning sermons pander to their lust |
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The fallen face of Jesus is choking in the dust |
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Heaven only knows in which God they can trust |
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Oh, here's to the land you've torn out the heart of |
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Mississippi, find yourself another country to be part of |
