| In the state of Mississippi many years ago
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| A boy of 14 years got a taste of Southern law
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| He saw his friend a hanging and his color was his crime
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| And the blood upon his jacket left a brand upon his mind
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| Too many martyrs and too many dead
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| Too many lies too many empty words were said
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| Too many times for too many angry men
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| Oh let it never be again
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| His name was Medgar Evers and he walked his road alone
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| Like Emmett Till and thousands more whose names we’ll never know
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| They tried to burn his home and they beat him to the ground
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| But deep inside they both knew what it took to bring him down
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| Too many martyrs and too many dead
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| Too many lies too many empty words were said
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| Too many times for too many angry men
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| Oh let it never be again
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| The killer waited by his home hidden by the night
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| As Evers stepped out from his car into the rifle sight
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| He slowly squeezed the trigger, the bullet left his side
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| It struck the heart of every man when Evers fell and died
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| Too many martyrs and too many dead
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| Too many lies too many empty words were said
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| Too many times for too many angry men
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| Oh let it never be again
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| And they laid him in his grave while the bugle sounded clear
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| Laid him in his grave when the victory was near
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| While we waited for the future for freedom through the land
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| The country gained a killer and the country lost a man
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| Too many martyrs and too many dead
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| Too many lies too many empty words were said
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| Too many times for too many angry men
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| Oh let it never be again |