Burning crosses in spotless sheets
Concerned with the matter at hand.
Only in the still of night can they meet
This secret society that has been banned.  
Yet there stand in these once silent woods
With their pointed hats and rebel flags.
Their intentions supposedly "good"
They hide the blood-stained rags.
 Decisions made with southern drawls
Not very much humanity involved
They stand by the cross reciting Jim Crow laws
In their hatred they are resolved.  
They pick our victims by sight alone
Muttering unintelligible chants and marching 'round.
They say its more than just skin tone
I've looked, but it's the only reason I've found.