peach pits: after abel meeropol.

there is strange fruit people eat

it sours their mouths and rots their cheeks

oh but they'll chew to the bone of the peach

cuttin up their lips with cracked porcelain teeth

permanent snarl and acid spit

in shade of dripping crimson branches they sit

piles of pits up to their eyes.

oh but they never get full

not on the flesh of strange fruit

ravage houses and roads for the bodies

they so crave

no chance to wake up or plea

'fore your body's on fire

with bullets and knees

flying

praying for a chance when you hear em shout

freeze.

asphalt paved over roots of old poplar trees

but the blood's there all the same.