Too much hypocrisy in this old southern town for me Way back in 1619 began this tragic story Thrown into slavery stand the crime was the color of skin Never to see the light of the past again R: I wanna go where the mountains are high enough to echo my song I wanna go where the rivers run deep enough to drown my shame I wanna go where the stars shine bright enough to show me the way I wanna go where the winds call my name The winds are calling India India India It's a typical Savannah day So I take my guitar to the park and I play Sitting up under the live oak trees The strangest spirit came over me Is this the tree where my brother was hung? Is this the ground where is body was burned? God gave to me the gift of song so I dedicate this one R: Superiority, prove how you better than me Wasting precious time on racist mentality This is only the beginning the flesh will be pushing up daisies in the ending Spirit knows no color either you're a hater or a lover R: