Summer A is freaking done. I don’t know what to do with myself, except post, since I haven’t in like 2 weeks. And because I’m sick and twisted, I’m posting something from school.
Wait, wait! Don’t run away! It’s not bad. Ever heard the song Strange Fruit? Well, I hadn’t until this semester when my history teacher, with an obvious love of blues, posted the lyrics to it in the course packet. So I checked out the song. Creepy. Why did my history teacher bring it up? Because its about lynching the blacks in the late 1800’s. Pretty fucked up. People used to dress up in the Sunday best and smile in pictures next to the dead bodies. How horrible.
Southern trees bear strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.
Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.








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