Testo White Folks

Propaganda, some pistol fire, a dirty deedA zealous gang, a skinhead's pride, reason to bleedNo use hanging around, no use hanging around.Strike of a fist, the master race, a foul diseaseCrack of a whip, a police state, search and seize,Then burn to the ground, then brun to the ground.Call it youth misunderstood, or hwite folksUp to no good,In cold blood you know they wouldRight here in the neighborhood.Wearing thorns like a crown,Wearing thorns like a crown.Call it youth misunderstood,Or white folks up to no goodIn cold blood you know they wouldRight here in the neighborhood.Now you and I, as lovers go, nothing to grieveWe watch our backs, we load our guns, on Christmas Eve...(Peter Kingsbery)© Edwin Ellis Warner Chappell Music France