Strange fruit, hanging from trees

Strange fruit, beautiful misery

Strange fruit, the hateful part of my history

Southern cities and towns in the backwoods of Mississippi

Tears flow like rivers from the eyes of the family.

In a country where black skin is guilty until proven innocent

My grandma put that root on you.

They don't know the spirit.

My grandma is a church mother.

They don't wanna hear it.

My grandma say a prayer for you