|
native son |
|
|
|
You
finally found the mainstream |
|
In
the middle of your life |
|
You
tapped into a vein |
|
Of
endless gold chains |
|
Now
you're locked up tight |
|
Tearing
down the middle of it |
|
Splitting
it right in half |
|
Bobbing
up and down the waves |
|
Like
a runaway slave |
|
On
a Huck Finn raft |
|
|
|
CHORUS: |
|
Take
your wife |
|
Take
your family |
|
Take
your gun |
|
Running
through the woods |
|
And
the burned out neighborhoods |
|
Looking
for someone |
|
A
member of your tribe |
|
A
Place you can hide |
|
'Til
the war has begun |
|
'Cause
in the fields before the flood |
|
You'll
be spilling blood |
|
Like
a native son |
|
|
|
Where
you gonna run to |
|
There
ain't no underground |
|
If
only you could fly |
|
You'd
cut across the sky |
|
Like
a rifle round |
|
Oh,
who are your people |
|
And
where is your homeland |
|
'Cause
they're dying side by side |
|
At
the river of pride |
|
Where
we tried to take a stand |
|
|
|
REPEAT
CHORUS TWICE |
|
|
|
In
the fields before the flood |
|
You'll
be spilling blood |
|
Like
a native son |