I've got no time for your suffering.
   I've got no time for your struggles.
   No time for your ugly riots and burn
   down your hoods. My own destruction
is at hand drunk in Bond Hill with a
failed marriage fights and failures
strange fruit rotting on the tree
I called you all ******* below
you called me down and I went into
the white cotton fields in your dark mob
and picked with ****** fingers and said
"You're strange fruit, I'm strange fruit,
   we're all rotted fruit hanging from trees.
   You set me free. I share your despair.