“Only A Pawn (s) In Their Game” (s)…

Just to highlight you’re being fcuked over on two fronts…

That’s the Battenberg\Mountbatten big end of town…

Then there’s the Battenberg\Schwammberger’s too…

The plausibly-deniable Battenberg-conspiracy B-Team…

And then there’s the one’s sitting on the bench too…

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My personal experience of treason is (Link) simple America…

And they were all only pawns in the game…

A bullet from the back of a
bush took Medgar Evers’ blood
A finger fired the trigger to his name
A handle hid out in the dark
A hand set the spark
Two eyes took the aim
Behind a man’s brain
But he can’t be blamed
He’s only a pawn in…

their game

A South politician preaches to the poor white man
“You got more than blacks, don’t complain, You’re better
than them, you been born with white skin” they explain
And the Negro’s name Is used it is plain
For the politician’s gain As he rises to fame
And the poor white remains
On the caboose of the train
But it ain’t him to blame
He’s only a pawn in their game

The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid
And the marshals and cops get the same, But the poor white
man’s used in the hands of them all like a tool
He’s taught in his school
From the start by the rule
That the laws are with him
To protect his white skin
To keep up his hate
So he never thinks straight
‘Bout the shape that he’s in
But it ain’t him to blame
He’s only a pawn in their game

From the poverty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks
And the hoof beats pound in his brain, And he’s taught how to
walk in a pack, Shoot in the back
With his fist in a clinch
To hang and to lynch
To hide ‘neath the hood
To kill with no pain
Like a dog on a chain
He ain’t got no name
But it ain’t him to blame
He’s only a pawn in their game

Today, Medgar Evers was buried from the bullet
he caught, They lowered him down as a king
But when the shadowy sun sets on the one
That fired the gun, He’ll see by his grave
On the stone that remains
Carved next to his name