I hear her laughing
She is standing in the kitchen
As we come in the back door
See it fall
See it fall
Oh little spider climbing out of a broken jug
And the pieces will lay there a while
In a house draped in net
In a room filled with coral
Sails at the window
Forests of masts
Put your hand over the side of the boat
Put your hand over the side of the boat
What do you feel?
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
Here is a 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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