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Poor Man
por
Billie Holiday
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Preachers preach for gold and not for souls It's what keeps a poor man always in a hole We can hardly get our breath Taxed and schooled and preached to death Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live? We got bodies swinging in the southern breeze Blood on the roots, blood on the leaves It's a bittersweet crop for the wind to suck Strange fruit swinging in the southern breeze Bodies floating on ca*** the levees gone to hell Martha get me my sixteen gauge and some dry shells Them who got, got out of town Thеm who ain't got, left to drown Tell me how can a poor man stand such timеs and live? I got family scattered all over the world And I ain't got no hope in this world no more Gonna be a judgement that's a fact A righteous train rolling down this track Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live? Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live? Tell me how can a poor man stand such times and live?
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