Only a Pawn in Their Game
Only a Pawn in Their Game
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A [G]bullet from the [C]back[/B] of[/A] a [G]bush took [C]Medgar [/B]Eve[/A]rs' [G]blood.
A [G]finger fired the [C]trigger to [/B]his [D/A]name.
[/C]A [/B] [G]handle hid [C]out [/B]in [/A]the [G]dark
A [C]hand set the [G]spark
Two [C]eyes took the [G]aim
Be[C]hind a man's [G]brain
But [C]he can't be [G]blamed
He's [G]on[/B]ly [C]a [D]pawn [C]in [/B]their [G]game.
G Bm' Am C G
A South politician preaches to the poor white man,
"You[G] got more than[C] the bla[/B]cks, don'[D]t complain.
[/C]You[/B]'re [G]better than [C]them, you been [/B]born with [/A]white [G]skin,&q[C]uot; th[G]ey explain.
And the Negro's name
Is used it is plain
For the politician's gain
As he rises to fame
And the poor white remains
On the caboose of the train
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game.
The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid,
And the marshals and cops get the same,
But the poor white man's used in the hands of them all like a tool.
He's taught in his school
From the start by the rule
That the laws are with him
To protect his white skin
To keep up his hate
So he never thinks straight
'Bout the shape that he's in
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game.
From the poverty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks,
And the hoof beats pound in his brain.
And he's taught how to walk in a pack
Shoot in the back
With his fist in a clinch
To hang and to lynch
To hide 'neath the hood
To kill with no pain
Like a dog on a chain
He ain't got no name
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game.
Today, Medgar Evers was buried from the bullet he caught.
They lowered him down as a king.
[/C]But[/B] when the [G]shadowy [C]sun [G]sets on the [C]one
That fired the gun
He'll see by his grave
On the stone that remains
Carved next to his name
His epitaph plain:
Only a pawn in their game.
Only a Pawn in Their Game
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A [G]bullet from the [C]back[/B] of[/A] a [G]bush took [C]Medgar [/B]Eve[/A]rs' [G]blood.
A [G]finger fired the [C]trigger to [/B]his [D/A]name.
[/C]A [/B] [G]handle hid [C]out [/B]in [/A]the [G]dark
A [C]hand set the [G]spark
Two [C]eyes took the [G]aim
Be[C]hind a man's [G]brain
But [C]he can't be [G]blamed
He's [G]on[/B]ly [C]a [D]pawn [C]in [/B]their [G]game.
G Bm' Am C G
A South politician preaches to the poor white man,
"You[G] got more than[C] the bla[/B]cks, don'[D]t complain.
[/C]You[/B]'re [G]better than [C]them, you been [/B]born with [/A]white [G]skin,&q[C]uot; th[G]ey explain.
And the Negro's name
Is used it is plain
For the politician's gain
As he rises to fame
And the poor white remains
On the caboose of the train
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game.
The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid,
And the marshals and cops get the same,
But the poor white man's used in the hands of them all like a tool.
He's taught in his school
From the start by the rule
That the laws are with him
To protect his white skin
To keep up his hate
So he never thinks straight
'Bout the shape that he's in
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game.
From the poverty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks,
And the hoof beats pound in his brain.
And he's taught how to walk in a pack
Shoot in the back
With his fist in a clinch
To hang and to lynch
To hide 'neath the hood
To kill with no pain
Like a dog on a chain
He ain't got no name
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game.
Today, Medgar Evers was buried from the bullet he caught.
They lowered him down as a king.
[/C]But[/B] when the [G]shadowy [C]sun [G]sets on the [C]one
That fired the gun
He'll see by his grave
On the stone that remains
Carved next to his name
His epitaph plain:
Only a pawn in their game.
