my hometown is haunted
there’s memories down every back road,
and some spirits are stuck on who they were
they roam the old dirt roads,
Thinking things have never changed.
There’s confederate soldiers still roaming my neighborhood,
The ghosts of slaves still singing their songs
Which are carried into the ears of their descendants,
it’s a reminder of rights that haven’t been granted.

There’s still hills from the crops that have been planted years and years ago.
There’s still people that hold the same belief as their white grandparents did.
There’s still hills and mountains to climb before everyone realized we’re all the same height.

My hometown is plagued with hatred,
But you have to listen closely,
It’s in the voices of rich southern belles,
Down to the soul of the tobacco spitting **** heads.
It’s cooked into green bean casseroles and fed to their children
Through backhanded compliments plastered in a facade.

Late at night, listen to the sounds in my hometown and
You’ll hear history.
Listen to the abandoned train,
And the slaves that worked through the heavy rain
if you close your eyes, you’ll see the sweat and tears,
Where you can’t tell which is which.
Listen to the broken souls,
And how far it carried into their own.
And you’ll realize this war was never over
For anyone begging for a difference