(narration )
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From the color of the faces in sunday`s songs
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To the hatred they raised all the youngsters on
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Once upon a time in this country long ago
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She knew there was something wrong
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Because the song said yellow, red, black, and white
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Everyone precious in the path of christ
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But what about the daughter
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of the woman cleaning their house
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Wasnt she a child they were singing about
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And if jesus loves us black or white skin
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Why didn`t her white mother invite them in?
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When did it become a room for no blacks to step in?
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How did she already know not to ask the question
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Left lasting impressions
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Adolescence`s comforts gone
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She never thought things would ever change
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But she always knew there was something wrong
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She always knew there was something wrong
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She always knew there was something wrong
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Years later she found herself mississippi-bound
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To help stop the legalized lynching
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Of mr. willie mcgee
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But they couldnt stop it
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So they thought that theyd talk to the governor
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About what happened
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And say were tired of being used
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As an excuse to kill black men
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But the cops wouldnt let em past and
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These women they struck em as uppity
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So they hauled em all off to jail
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And they called it protective custody
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Then from her cell she heard her jailers
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Grumbling about outsiders
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And when she called him out
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And said she was from the south they shouted
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Why is a nice southern lady
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Making trouble for the governor?
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She said, i guess im not your type of lady
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And i guess im not your type of southerner.
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But before you call me traitor
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Well its plainest just to say
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I was a child in mississippi
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But im ashamed of it today
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She always knew there was something wrong
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She always knew there was something wrong
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She always knew there was something wrong
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She always knew there was something wrong
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Imagine the world that youre standing within
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All of your neighbors and family and friends
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How would you cope Facing the fact
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The flesh on your hand
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Was tainted with sin
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She faced it every day
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People she saw on a regular basis
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People she loved in several cases
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People she knew were incredibly racist
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It was painful
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But she never stopped loving them
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Never stopped calling their name
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And she never stopped being a southern woman
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And she never stopped calling for change
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And she saw that her struggle
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Was in the tradition
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Of ancestors never aware of her
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It continues today
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The soul of a southerner
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Born of the other america
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She always knew there was something wrong
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She always knew there was something wrong
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She always knew there was something wrong
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She always knew there was something wrong
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(narration )
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Anne Braden
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Flobots |