strange fruit

Siouxie An Banshees

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 cry.